THE 
MOVIN 
FINGER 


HILLIPS 
OPPENHEIM 


THE  MOVING  FINGER 


"  Sit  still,"  he  whispered.    "  Don't  say  anything.    There 
is  someone  coming." 

[FRONTISPIECE.    See  p.  166 


THE    MOVING 
FINGER 


BY 

E.  PHILLIPS   OPPENHEIM 

AUTHOR    OF    "  THE    LOST   AMBASSADOR,"    "  THE    ILLUSTRIOUS 
PRINCE,"    "  JEANNE    OF   THE    MARSHES,"    ETC. 


With  Illustrations  by 
J.    V.    McFALL 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1911 


Stack 
Annex 


Copyright,  1910, 1911, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published,  May,  1911. 


Printed   by 

THE      COLONIAL      PRESS 
C.  H.  Simonds  &  Co.,  Boston,  U.  S.  A. 


Stack 

Annex 

PR 
5V/5T 


!  The  Moving  Finger  writes  ;   and  having  writ, 
Moves  on :  nor  all  your  Piety  nor  Wit 
Shall  lure  it  back  to  cancel  half  a  Line, 
Nor  all  your  Tears  wash  out  a  Word  of  it." 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTEK  PAGH 

PROLOGUE  —  THE  DREAMER    ....  1 

I.  A  LETTER  PROVES  USEFUL      ....  11 

II.    OLD  ACQUAINTANCES 17 

III.  "  WHO  is  MR.  SATON?  " 23 

IV.  A  QUESTION  OF  OBLIGATION    ....  32 
V.    A  MORNING  WALK 46 

VI.     PAULINE  MARRABEL 54 

VII.    AN  UNWELCOME  VISITOR 61 

VIII.  AN  INSTANCE  OF  OCCULTISM    ....  67 

IX.     A  SENTIMENTAL  TALK 74 

X.    THE  SCENE  CHANGES 80 

XI.    A  BUSY  EVENING 86 

XII.  A  CALL  ON  LADY  MARRABEL  ....  97 

XIII.  LADY  MARY'S  DILEMMA 105 

XIV.  PETTY  WORRIES 114 

XV.    ROCHESTER  is  INDIGNANT 124 

XVI.    PLAIN  SPEAKING 133 

XVII.  THE  GREAT  NAUDHEIM                             .  141 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTEE  PAGE 

XVIII.  ROCHESTER'S  ULTIMATUM  ....  150 

XIX.  TROUBLE  BREWING 158 

XX.  FIRST  BLOOD 165 

XXI.  AFRAID! ,*  .  .  172 

XXII.  SATON  REASSERTS  HIMSELF  ....  178 

XXIII.  AN  UNPLEASANT  ENCOUNTER     .      .     .  186 

XXIV.  Lois  is  OBEDIENT 194 

XXV.  A  LAST  WARNING 202 

XXVI.  THE  DUCHESS'S  DINNER  PARTY      .     .  209 

XXVII.  THE  ANSWER  TO  A  RIDDLE  ....  215 

XXVIII.  SPOKEN  FROM  THE  HEART     ....  224 

XXIX.  THE  COURAGE  OF  DESPERATION     .      .  232 

XXX.  A  SURPRISING  REQUEST 239 

XXXI.  BETWEEN  LOVE  AND  DUTY  ....  248 

XXXII.  AT  THE  EDGE  OF  THE  PRECIPICE    .      .  255 

XXXIII.  "You  Do  NOT  BELIEVE  IN  ME!"      .  261 

XXXIV.  A  WOMAN'S  TONGUE 269 

XXXV.  ON  Lois'  BIRTHDAY 278 

XXXVI.  THE  CHARLATAN  UNMASKED      ...  284 

EPILOGUE  —  THE  MAN  294 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  Sit  still,"  he  whispered.    "  Don't  say  anything. 

There  is  someone  coming "  .  .  Frontispiece 

He  came  to  a  standstill  by  the  side  of  the  boy  Page  % 
"  Some  water  quick,  and  brandy,"  Rochester 

cried "73 

She  swayed  for  a  moment,  and  fell  over  on 

her  side  .  "    222 


THE  MOVING  FINGER 

PROLOGUE 


THE    DREAMER 


THE  boy  sat  with  his  back  to  a  rock,  his  knees 
drawn  up  and  clasped  within  fingers  nervously 
interlocked.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  great 
stretch  of  landscape  below,  shadowy  now,  and  indistinct, 
like  a  rolling  plain  of  patchwork  woven  by  mysterious 
fingers.  Gray  mists  were  floating  over  the  meadows  and 
low-lying  lands.  Away  in  the  distance  they  marked  the 
circuitous  course  of  the  river,  which  only  an  hour  ago 
had  shone  like  a  belt  of  silver  in  the  light  of  the  setting 
sun.  Twilight  had  fallen  with  unexpected  swiftness.  Here 
and  there  a  light  flashed  from  the  isolated  farmhouses. 
On  the  darkening  horizon,  a  warm  glow  was  reflected  in 
the  clouds  from  the  distant  town. 

The  boy,  when  he  had  settled  down  to  his  vigil,  had 
been  alone.  From  over  the  brow  of  the  hill,  however,  had 
come  a  few  minutes  ago  a  man,  dressed  in  loose  shooting 
clothes,  and  with  a  gun  under  his  arm.  He  came  to  a 
standstill  by  the  side  of  the  boy,  and  stood  there  watching 
him  for  several  moments,  with  a  certain  faintly  amused 
curiosity  shining  out  of  his  somewhat  supercilious  gray 
eyes.  The  newcomer  was  obviously  a  person  of  breeding 
and  culture  —  the  sort  of  person  who  assumes  without 
question  the  title  of  "  Gentleman."  The  boy  wore  ready- 


2  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

made  clothes  and  hobnailed  boots.  They  remained  within 
a  few  feet  of  one  another  for  several  moments,  without 
speech. 

"  My  young  friend,"  the  newcomer  said  at  last,  "  you 
will  be  late  for  your  tea,  or  whatever  name  is  given  to 
your  evening  meal.  Did  you  not  hear  the  bell?  It  rang 
nearly  half-an-hour  ago." 

The  boy  moved  his  head  slightly,  but  made  no  attempt 
to  rise. 

"  It  does  not  matter.  I  am  not  hungry." 

The  newcomer  leaned  his  gun  against  the  rock,  and 
drawing  a  pipe  from  the  pocket  of  his  shooting-coat, 
commenced  leisurely  to  fill  it.  Every  now  and  then  he 
glanced  at  the  boy,  who  seemed  once  more  to  have  be- 
come unconscious  of  his  presence.  He  struck  a  match  and 
lit  the  tobacco,  stooping  down  for  a  moment  to  escape 
the  slight  evening  breeze.  Then  he  threw  the  match 
away,  and  lounged  against  the  lichen-covered  fragment 
of  stone. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  remarked,  "  why,  when  you  have  the 
whole  day  in  which  to  come  and  look  at  this  magnificent 
view,  you  should  choose  to  come  just  at  the  hour  when  it 
has  practically  been  swallowed  up." 

The  boy  lifted  his  head  for  the  first  time.  His  face 
was  a  little  long,  his  features  irregular  but  not  displeas- 
ing, his  deep-set  eyes  seemed  unnaturally  bright.  His 
cheeks  were  sunken,  his  forehead  unusually  prominent. 
The  whole  effect  of  his  personality  was  a  little  curious.  If 
he  had  no  claims  to  be  considered  good-looking,  his  face 
was  at  least  a  striking  one. 


He  came  to  a  standstill  by  the  side  of  the  boy. 


(Page  2 


PROLOGUE  — THE   DREAMER  3 

"  I  come  at  this  hour,"  he  said  slowly,  "  because  the 
view  does  not  attract  me  so  much  at  any  other  time.  It  is 
only  when  the  twilight  falls  that  one  can  see  —  prop- 
erly" 

The  newcomer  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth. 

"  You  must  have  marvelous  eyesight,  my  young 
friend,"  he  remarked.  "  To  me  everything  seems  blurred 
and  uncertain." 

"  You  don't  understand !  "  said  the  boy  impatiently. 
"  I  do  not  come  here  to  see  the  things  that  anyone  can 
see  at  any  hour  of  the  day.  There  is  nothing  satisfying 
in  that.  I  come  here  to  look  down  and  see  the  things 
which  do  not  really  exist.  It  is  easy  enough  when  one  is 
alone,"  he  added,  a  little  pointedly. 

The  newcomer  laughed  softly  —  there  was  more  ban- 
ter than  humor  in  his  mirth. 

"  So  my  company  displeases  you,"  he  remarked.  "  Do 
you  know  that  I  have  the  right  to  tell  you  to  get  up,  and 
never  to  pass  through  that  gate  again?  " 

The  boy  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  One  place  is  as  good  as  another,"  he  said. 

The  man  smoked  in  silence  for  several  moments.  Then 
he  withdrew  the  pipe  from  his  teeth  and  sighed  gently. 

"  These  are  indeed  democratic  days,"  he  said.  "  You 
do  not  know,  my  young  friend,  that  I  am  Henry  Prest- 
gate  Rochester,  Esquire,  if  you  please,  High  Sheriff  of 
this  county,  Magistrate  and  Member  of  Parliament, 
owner,  by  the  bye,  of  that  rock  against  which  you  are 
leaning,  and  of  most  of  that  country  below,  which  you 
can  or  cannot  see." 


4  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

"  Really ! "  the  boy  answered  slowly.  "  My  name  is 
Bertrand  Saton,  and  I  am  staying  at  the  Convalescent 
Home  down  there,  a  luxury  which  is  costing  me  exactly 
eight  shillings  a  week." 

"  So  I  concluded,"  his  companion  remarked.  "  May  I 
ask  what  your  occupation  is,  when  in  health?  " 

"  It's  of  no  consequence,"  the  boy  answered,  a  little 
impatiently.  "  Perhaps  I  haven't  one  at  all.  Whatever  it 
is,  as  you  may  imagine,  it  has  not  brought  me  any  great 
success.  If  you  wish  me  to  go " 

"  Not  at  all,"  Rochester  interrupted,  with  a  little  pro- 
testing gesture. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  remain  here  on  sufferance,"  the  boy 
continued.  "  I  understood  that  we  were  allowed  to  spend 
our  time  upon  the  hills  here." 

"  That  is  quite  true,  I  believe,"  Rochester  admitted. 
"  My  bailiff  sees  to  those  things,  and  if  it  amuses  you  to 
sit  here  all  night,  you  are  perfectly  welcome." 

"  I  shall  probably  do  so." 

Rochester  watched  him  curiously  for  a  few  seconds. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  I  will  make  a  bargain  with 
you.  You  shall  have  the  free  run  of  all  my  lands  for  as 
long  as  you  like,  and  in  return  you  shall  just  answer  me 
one  question." 

The  boy  turned  his  head  slightly. 

"  The  question  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  You  shall  tell  me  the  things  which  you  see  down 
there,"  Rochester  declared,  holding  his  hand  straight  out 
in  front  of  him,  pointing  downward  toward  the  half- 
hidden  panorama. 


PROLOGUE  —  THE   DREAMER  5 

The  boy  shook  his  head. 

"  For  other  people  they  would  not  count,"  he  said. 
"  They  are  for  myself  only.  What  I  see  would  be  invis- 
ible to  you." 

"  A  matter  of  eyesight  ?  "  Rochester  asked,  with  raised 
eyebrows. 

"  Of  imagination,"  the  boy  answered.  "  There  is  no 
necessity  for  you  to  look  outside  your  own  immediate 
surroundings  to  see  beautiful  things,  unless  you  choose 
deliberately  to  make  your  life  an  ugly  thing.  With  us  it 
is  different  —  with  us  who  work  for  a  living,  who  dwell 
in  the  cities,  and  who  have  no  power  to  push  back  the 
wheels  of  life.  If  we  are  presumptuous  enough  to  wish 
to  take  into  our  lives  anything  of  the  beautiful,  anything 
to  help  us  fight  our  daily  battle  against  the  common- 
place, we  have  to  create  it  for  ourselves.  That  is  why  I 
am  here  just  now,  and  why  I  was  regretting,  when  I 
heard  your  footstep,  that  one  finds  it  so  hard  to  be 
alone." 

"  So  I  am  to  be  ordered  off?  "  Rochester  remarked, 
smiling. 

The  boy  did  not  answer.  The  man  did  not  move.  The 
minutes  went  by,  and  the  silence  remained  unbroken.  Be- 
low, the  twilight  seemed  to  be  passing  into  night  with 
unusual  rapidity.  It  was  a  shapeless  world  now,  a  world 
of  black  and  gray.  More  lights  flashed  out  every  few 
seconds. 

It  was  the  boy  who  broke  the  silence  at  last.  He 
seemed,  in  some  awkward  way,  to  be  trying  to  atone  for 
his  former  unsociability. 


6  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  This  is  my  last  night  at  the  Convalescent  Home,"  he 
said,  a  little  abruptly.  "  I  am  cured.  To-morrow  I  am  go- 
ing back  to  my  work  in  Mechester.  For  many  days  I  shall 
see  nothing  except  actual  things.  I  shall  know  nothing 
of  life  except  its  dreary  and  material  side.  That  is  why 
I  came  here  with  the  twilight.  That  is  why  I  am  going 
to  sit  here  till  the  night  comes  —  perhaps,  even,  I  shall 
wait  until  the  dawn.  I  want  one  last  long  rest.  I  want  to 
carry  away  with  me  some  absolute  impression  of  life  as 
I  would  have  it.  Down  there,"  he  added,  moving  his 
head  slowly,  "  down  there  I  can  see  the  things  I  want  — 
the  things  which,  if  I  could,  I  would  take  into  my  life. 
I  am  going  to  look  at  them,  and  think  of  them,  and  long 
for  them,  until  they  seem  real.  I  am  going  to  create  a 
concrete  memory,  and  take  it  away  with  me." 

Rochester  looked  more  than  a  little  puzzled.  The  boy's 
speech  seemed  in  no  way  in  keeping  with  his  attire,  and 
the  fact  of  his  presence  in  a  charitable  home. 

"  Might  one  inquire  once  more,"  he  asked,  "  what 
your  occupation  in  Mechester  is  ?  " 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence,"  the  boy  answered  shortly. 
"  It  is  an  occupation  that  does  not  count.  It  does  not 
make  for  anything  in  life.  One  must  do  something  to 
earn  one's  daily  bread." 

"  You  find  my  questioning  rather  a  nuisance,  I  am 
afraid,"  Rochester  remarked,  politely. 

"  I  will  not  deny  it,"  the  boy  answered.  "  I  will  ad- 
mit that  I  wish  to  be  alone.  I  am  hoping  that  very  soon 
you  will  be  going." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  Rochester  replied,  smiling,  "  I  am 


PROLOGUE  — THE   DREAMER  7 

much  too  interested  in  your  amiable  conversation.  You 
see,"  he  added,  knocking  the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  and 
leaning  carelessly  back  against  the  rock,  "  I  live  in  a 
world,  every  member  of  which  is  more  or  less  satisfied.  I 
will  be  frank  with  you,  and  I  will  admit  that  I  find  satis- 
faction in  either  man  or  woman  a  most  reprehensible 
state.  I  find  a  certain  relief,  therefore,  in  talking  to  a  per- 
son who  wants  something  he  hasn't  got,  or  who  wants  to 
be  something  that  he  isn't." 

"  Then  you  can  find  all  the  satisfaction  you  want  in 
talking  to  me,"  the  boy  declared,  gloomily.  "  I  am  at 
the  opposite  pole  of  life,  you  see,  to  those  friends  of 
yours.  I  want  everything  I  haven't  got.  I  am  content 
with  nothing  that  I  have." 

"  For  instance  ?  "  Rochester  asked,  suggestively. 

"  I  want  freedom  from  the  life  of  a  slave,"  the  boy 
said.  "  I  want  money,  the  money  that  gives  power.  I 
want  the  right  to  shape  my  own  life  in  my  own  way,  and 
to  my  own  ends,  instead  of  being  forced  to  remain  a 
miserable,  ineffective  part  of  a  useless  scheme  of  exist- 
ence." 

"  Your  desires  are  perfectly  reasonable,"  Rochester 
remarked,  calmly.  "  Imagine,  if  you  please  —  you  seem 
to  have  plenty  of  imaginative  force  —  that  I  am  a  fairy 
godfather.  I  may  not  look  the  part,  but  at  least  I  can 
live  up  to  it.  I  will  provide  the  key  for  your  escape.  I 
will  set  you  down  in  the  world  you  are  thirsting  to  enter. 
You  shall  take  your  place  with  the  others,  and  run  your 
race." 

The  boy  suddenly  abandoned  his  huddled-up  position, 


8  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

and  rose  to  his  feet.  Against  the  background  of  empty 
air,  and  in  the  gathering  darkness,  he  seemed  thinner 
than  ever,  and  smaller. 

"  I  am  going,"  he  said  shortly.  "  It  may  seem  amus- 
ing to  you  to  make  fun  of  me.  I  will  not  stay " 

"  Don't  be  a  fool !  "  Rochester  interrupted.  "  Haven't 
you  heard  that  I  am  more  than  half  a  madman?  I  am 
going  to  justify  my  character  for  eccentricity.  You  see 
my  house  down  there  —  Beauleys,  they  call  it?  At 
twelve  o'clock  to-morrow,  if  you  come  to  me,  I  will  give 
you  a  sum  of  money  sufficient  to  keep  you  for  several 
years.  I  do  not  specify  the  amount  at  this  moment,  I 
shall  think  it  over  before  you  come." 

The  boy  had  no  words.  He  simply  stared  at  his  chance 
companion  in  blank  astonishment. 

"  My  offer  seems  to  surprise  you,"  Rochester  re- 
marked, pleasantly.  "  It  need  not.  You  can  go  and  tell 
the  whole  world  of  it,  if  you  like,  although,  as  a  repu- 
tation for  sanity  is  quite  a  valuable  asset,  nowadays,  I 
should  suggest  that  you  keep  your  mouth  closed.  Still,  if 
you  do  speak  of  it,  no  one  will  be  in  the  least  surprised. 
My  friends  —  I  haven't  many  —  call  me  the  most  ec- 
centric man  in  Christendom.  My  enemies  wonder  how  it 
is  that  I  keep  out  of  the  asylum.  Personally,  I  consider 
myself  a  perfectly  reasonable  mortal.  I  have  whims,  and 
I  am  not  afraid  to  indulge  them.  I  give  you  this  money 
on  one  —  or  perhaps  we  had  better  say  two  conditions. 
The  first  is  that  you  make  a  bona  fide  use  of  it.  When 
I  say  that,  I  mean  that  you  leave  immediately  your  pres- 
ent employment,  whatever  it  may  be,  and  go  out  into  the 


PROLOGUE  — THE    DREAMER  g 

world  with  the  steadfast  purpose  of  finding  for  yourself 
the  things  which  you  saw  a  few  minutes  ago  down  in  the 
valley  there.  You  may  not  find  them,  but  still  I  pledge 
you  to  the  search.  The  second  condition  is  that  some  day 
or  other  you  find  your  way  back  into  this  part  of  the 
country,  and  tell  me  how  my  experiment  has  fared." 

The  boy  realized  with  a  little  gasp. 

"  Am  I  to  thank  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  would  be  usual  but  foolish,"  Rochester  answered. 
"  I  need  no  thanks,  I  deserve  none.  I  yield  to  a  whim, 
nothing  else.  I  do  this  thing  for  my  own  pleasure.  The 
sum  of  money  which  I  propose  to  put  into  your  hands 
will  probably  represent  to  me  what  a  five-shilling  piece 
might  to  you.  This  may  sound  vulgar,  but  it  is  true.  I 
think  that  I  need  not  warn  you  never  to  come  to  me  for 
more.  You  need  not  look  so  horrified.  I  am  quite  sure 
that  you  would  not  do  that.  And  there  is  one  thing  fur- 
ther." 

"  Yes?  "  the  boy  asked.  "  Another  condition?  " 

Rochester  shook  his  head. 

"  No ! "  he  said.  "  It  is  not  a  condition.  It  is  just  a 
little  advice.  The  way  through  life  hasn't  been  made 
clear  for  everyone.  You  may  find  yourself  brought  up 
in  the  thorny  paths.  Take  my  advice.  Don't  be  content 
with  anything  less  than  success.  If  you  fail,  strip  off 
your  clothes,  and  swim  out  to  sea  on  a  sunny  day,  swim 
out  until  your  strength  fails  and  you  must  sink.  It  is 
the  pleasantest  form  of  oblivion  I  know  of.  Don't  live 
on.  You  are  only  a  nuisance  to  yourself,  and  a  bad  in- 
fluence to  the  rest  of  the  world.  Succeed,  or  make  your 


io  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

little  bow,  my  young  friend.  It  is  the  best  advice  I  can 
give  you.  Remember  that  the  men  who  have  failed,  and 
who  live  on,  are  creatures  of  the  gutter." 

"  You  are  right ! "  the  boy  muttered.  "  I  have  read 
that  somewhere,  and  it  comes  home  to  me.  Failure  is  the 
one  unforgivable  sin.  If  I  have  to  commit  every  other 
crime  in  the  decalogue,  I  will  at  least  avoid  that  one !  " 

Rochester  shouldered  his  gun,  and  prepared  to  stroll 
off. 

"  At  twelve  o'clock  to-morrow,  then,"  he  said.  "  I 
wouldn't  hurry  away  now,  if  I  were  you.  Sit  down  in 
your  old  place,  and  see  if  there  isn't  a  thread  of  gold 
down  there  in  the  valley." 

The  boy  obeyed  almost  mechanically.  His  heart  was 
beating  fast.  His  back  was  pressed  against  the  cold 
rock.  The  fingers  of  both  hands  were  nervously  buried 
in  the  soft  turf.  Once  more  his  eyes  were  riveted  upon 
this  land  of  shifting  shadows.  The  whole  panorama  of 
life  seemed  suddenly  unveiled  before  his  eyes.  More  real, 
more  brilliant  now  were  the  things  upon  which  he  looked. 
The  thread  of  gold  was  indeed  there ! 


CHAPTER  I 

A  LETTER  PROVES  USEFUL 

BERTRAND  SATON  leaned  against  the  stone 
coping  of  the  bridge,  and  looked  downwards,  as 
though  watching  the  seagulls  circling  round  and 
round,  waiting  for  their  usual  feast  of  scraps.  The  gulls, 
however,  were  only  his  excuse.  He  stood  there,  looking 
hard  at  the  gray,  muddy  water  beneath,  trying  to  make 
up  his  mind  to  this  final  and  inevitable  act  of  despair. 
He  had  walked  the  last  hundred  yards  almost  eagerly. 
He  had  told  himself  that  he  was  absolutely  and  entirely 
prepared  for  death.  Yet  the  first  sight  of  that  gray, 
cold-looking  river,  had  chilled  him.  He  felt  a  new  and 
unaccountable  reluctance  to  quit  the  world  which  cer- 
tainly seemed  to  have  made  up  its  mind  that  it  had  no 
need  of  him.  His  thoughts  rushed  backwards.  "  Swim 
out  to  sea  on  a  sunny  day,"  he  repeated  to  himself 
slowly.  Yes,  but  this !  It  was  a  different  thing,  this !  The 
longer  he  looked  below,  the  more  he  shrank  from  such  a 
death ! 

He  stood  upright  with  a  little  shiver,  and  began  —  it 
was  not  for  the  first  time  that  day  —  a  searching  inves- 
tigation into  the  contents  of  his  pocket.  The  result  was 
uninspiring.  There  was  not  an  article  there  which  would 
have  fetched  the  price  of  a  dose  of  poison.  Then  his  fin- 


12  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

gers  strayed  into  a  breast-pocket  which  he  seldom  used, 
and  brought  out  a  letter,  unopened,  all  grimy,  and  show- 
ing signs  of  having  been  there  for  some  considerable 
time.  He  held  it  between  his  fingers,  doubtful  at  first 
from  where  it  had  come.  Then  suddenly  he  remembered. 
He  remembered  the  runaway  horses  in  the  Bois,  and  the 
strange-looking  old  woman  who  had  sat  in  the  carriage 
with  grim,  drawn  lips  and  pallid  face.  He  remembered 
the  dash  into  the  roadway,  the  brief,  maddening  race  by 
the  side  of  the  horses,  his  clutch  at  the  reins,  the  sense  of 
being  dragged  along  the  dusty  road.  It  was,  perhaps, 
the  one  physically  courageous  action  of  his  life.  The 
horses  were  stopped,  and  the  woman's  life  was  saved. 
He  looked  at  the  letter  in  his  hand. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  asked  himself  softly. 

He  hesitated,  and  glanced  downward  once  more  toward 
the  river.  The  sight  seemed  to  decide  him.  He  turned  his 
weary  footsteps  again  westward. 

Walking  with  visible  effort,  and  resting  whenever  he 
had  a  chance,  he  reached  at  last  the  Oxford  Street  end 
of  Bond  Street.  Holding  the  letter  in  his  hand,  he  made 
his  way,  slowly  and  more  painfully  than  ever,  down  the 
right-hand  side.  People  stared  at  him  a  little  curiously. 
He  was  a  strange  figure,  passing  through  the  crowds  of 
well-dressed,  sauntering  men  and  women.  He  was  unnat- 
urally thin  —  the  pallor  of  his  cheeks  and  the  gleam  in 
his  eyes  spoke  of  starvation.  His  clothes  had  been  well- 
cut,  but  they  were  almost  in  rags.  His  cap  had  cost  him 
a  few  pence  at  a  second-hand  store. 

He  made  his  way  toward  his  destination,  looking  nei- 


A   LETTER   PROVES    USEFUL          13 

ther  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left.  The  days  had  gone 
when  he  found  it  interesting  to  study  the  faces  of  the 
passers-by,  looking  out  always  for  adventures,  amus- 
ing himself  with  shrewd  speculations  as  to  the  character 
and  occupation  of  those  who  seemed  worthy  of  notice. 
This  was  his  last  quest  now  —  the  quest  of  life  or  death. 

He  stopped  in  front  of  a  certain  number,  and  compar- 
ing it  with  the  tattered  envelope  which  he  held  in  his 
hand,  finally  entered.  The  lift-boy,  who  was  lounging  in 
the  little  hall,  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"  I  want  to  find  Madame  Helga,"  the  young  man  said 
shortly.  "  This  is  number  38,  isn't  it?  " 

The  boy  looked  at  him  doubtfully,  and  led  the  way  to 
the  lift. 

"  Third  floor,"  he  said.  "  I'll  take  you  up." 

The  lift  stopped,  and  Bertrand  Saton  found  in  front 
of  him  a  door  upon  which  was  a  small  brass  plate,  en- 
graved simply  with  the  name  of  Helga.  He  knocked 
twice,  and  received  no  answer.  Then,  turning  the  handle, 
he  entered,  and  stood  looking  about  him  with  some  curi- 
osity. 

It  was  a  small  room,  luxuriously  but  sombrely  fur- 
nished. Heavy  curtains  were  drawn  more  than  half-way 
across  the  windows,  and  the  room  was  so  dark  that  at 
first  he  was  not  sure  whether  it  was  indeed  empty.  On  a 
small  black  oak  table  in  the  middle  of  the  rich  green 
carpet,  stood  a  crystal  ball.  There  was  nothing  else  un- 
usual about  the  apartment,  except  the  absence  of  any 
pictures  upon  the  walls,  and  a  faint  aromatic  odor,  as 
though  somewhere  dried  weeds  were  being  burned. 


14  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

Some  curtains  opposite  him  were  suddenly  thrust 
aside.  A  woman  stood  there  looking  at  him.  She  was  of 
middle  height,  fair,  with  a  complexion  which  even  in 
that  indistinct  light  he  could  see  owed  little  of  its  smooth- 
ness to  nature.  She  wore  a  loose  gown  which  seemed  to 
hang  from  her  shoulders,  of  some  soft  green  material, 
drawn  around  her  waist  with  a  girdle.  Her  eyes  were 
deep-set  and  penetrating. 

"  You  wish  to  see  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  held  out  the  note. 

"  If  you  are  Madame  Helga,"  he  answered. 

She  came  a  little  further  into  the  room,  looking  at 
him  with  a  slight  frown  contracting  her  pencilled  eye- 
brows. He  had  no  appearance  of  being  a  client. 

"  You  have  brought  a  letter,  then  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  My  name  is  Bertrand  Saton,"  he  explained.  "  This 
letter  was  given  to  me  in  Paris  more  than  a  year  ago,  by 
an  elderly  lady.  I  have  carried  it  with  me  all  that  time. 
At  first  it  did  not  seem  likely  that  I  should  ever  need 
to  use  it.  Unfortunately,"  he  added,  a  little  bitterly, 
"  things  have  changed." 

She  took  the  letter,  and  tore  open  the  envelope.  Its 
contents  consisted  only  of  a  few  lines,  which  she  read 
with  some  appearance  of  surprise.  Then  she  turned  once 
more  to  the  young  man. 

"  You  are  the  Mr.  Bertrand  Saton  of  whom  the 
writer  of  this  letter  speaks  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  nodded. 

"  I  am,"  he  answered. 

She  looked  him  over  from  head  to  foot.  There  was 


A   LETTER   PROVES    USEFUL          15 

scarcely  an  inch  of  his  person  which  did  not  speak  of 
poverty  and  starvation. 

"  You  have  had  trouble,"  she  remarked. 

"I  have,"  he  admitted. 

"  The  lady  who  wrote  that  letter,"  she  said,  "  is  at 
present  in  Spain." 

He  turned  to  go. 

"  I  am  not  surprised,"  he  answered.  "  My  star  is  not 
exactly  in  the  ascendant  just  now." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure,"  she  said.  "  And  whatever  you 
do,  don't  go  away.  Sit  down  if  you  are  tired.  You  don't 
seem  strong." 

"I  am  not,"  he  admitted.  "Would  you  like,"  he 
added,  "  to  know  what  is  the  matter  with  me  ?  " 

"  It  is  nothing  serious,  I  hope?  " 

"  I  am  starving,"  he  declared,  simply.  "  I  have  eaten 
nothing  for  twenty-four  hours." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  as  though  doubting 
his  words.  Then  she  moved  rapidly  to  a  desk  which  stood 
in  a  corner  of  the  room. 

"  You  are  a  very  foolish  person,"  she  said,  "  to  allow 
yourself  to  get  into  such  a  state,  when  all  the  time  you 
had  this  letter  in  your  pocket.  But  I  forgot,"  she  added, 
unlocking  the  desk.  "  You  had  not  read  it.  You  had 
better  have  some  money  to  buy  yourself  food  and  clothes, 
and  come  here  again." 

"  Food  and  clothes !  "  he  repeated,  vaguely.  "  I  do 
not  understand." 

She  touched  the  letter  with  her  forefinger. 

"  You  have  a  very  powerful  friend  here,"  she  said.  "  I 


16  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

am  told  to  give  you  whatever  you  may  be  in  need  of, 
and  to  telegraph  to  her,  in  whatever  part  of  the  world 
she  may  be,  if  ever  you  should  present  this  letter." 

Saton  began  to  laugh  softly. 

"  It  is  the  turn  of  the  wheel,"  he  said.  "  I  am  too 
weak  to  hear  any  more.  Give  me  some  money,  and  I  will 
come  back.  I  must  eat  or  I  shall  faint." 

She  gave  him  some  notes,  and  watched  him  curiously 
as  he  staggered  out  of  the  room.  He  forgot  the  lift,  and 
descended  by  the  stairs,  unsteadily,  like  a  drunken  per- 
son, reeling  from  the  banisters  to  the  wall,  and  back 
again.  Out  in  the  street,  people  looked  at  him  curiously 
as  he  turned  northward  toward  Oxford  Street.  His  eyes 
searched  the  shop-windows.  He  hurried  along  like  a  man 
feverishly  anxious  to  make  use  of  his  last  stint  of 
strength.  He  was  in  search  of  food  1 


CHAPTER  H 

OLD    ACQUAINTANCES 

ROCHESTER  was  walking  slowly  along  the 
country  lane  which  led  from  the  main  road  to 
Beauleys,  when  the  hoot  of  a  motor  overtaking 
him  caused  him  to  slacken  his  pace  and  draw  in  close 
to  the  hedge-side.  The  great  car  swung  by,  with  a  cov- 
ered top  upon  which  was  luggage,  a  chauffeur,  immacu- 
late in  dark  green  livery,  and  inside,  two  people.  Roches- 
ter caught  a  glimpse  of  them  as  they  passed  by  —  the 
woman,  heavily  muffled  up  notwithstanding  the  warm 
afternoon,  old  and  withered ;  the  man,  young,  with  dark, 
sallow  complexion,  and  thoughtful  eyes.  They  were  gone 
like  a  flash.  Yet  Rochester  stood  for  a  moment  in  the 
road  looking  after  them,  before  he  turned  into  a  field 
to  escape  the  cloud  of  dust.  The  man's  face  was  peculiar, 
and  strangely  enough  it  was  familiar.  He  racked  his 
brains  in  vain  for  some  clue  to  its  identity  —  searched 
every  corner  of  his  memory  without  success.  Finally, 
with  a  little  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  he  dismissed  the  sub- 
ject. 

He  was  soon  to  be  reminded  of  it,  though,  for  when 
he  reached  home,  he  was  told  at  once  that  a  gentleman 
was  waiting  to  see  him  in  the  study.  Then  Rochester, 
with  a  little  gasp  of  surprise,  recalled  that  likeness  which 


18  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

had  puzzled  him  so  much.  He  knew  who  his  visitor  was ! 
He  walked  toward  the  study,  filled  with  a  curious  — 
perhaps,  even,  an  ominous  sense  of  excitement !  .  .  . 

They  were  face  to  face  in  a  few  seconds.  The  man  was 
unchanged.  The  boy  alone  was  altered.  Rochester's  hair 
was  a  little  grayer,  perhaps,  but  his  face  was  still  smooth. 
His  out-of-door  life  and  that  wonderful  mouth  of  his, 
with  its  half  humorous,  half  cynical  curve,  still  kept  his 
face  young.  To  the  boy  had  come  a  change  much  more 
marked  and  evident.  He  was  a  boy  no  longer  —  not  even 
a  youth.  He  carried  himself  with  the  assured  bearing  of 
a  man  of  the  world.  His  thick  black  hair  was  carefully 
parted.  His  clothes  bore  the  stamp  of  Saville  Row.  His 
face  was  puzzling.  His  eyes  were  still  the  eyes  of  a 
dreamer,  the  eyes  of  a  man  who  is  content  to  be  rather 
than  to  do.  Yet  the  rest  of  his  face  seemed  somehow  to 
have  suffered.  His  cheeks  had  rilled  out.  His  mouth  and 
expression  were  no  longer  easy  to  read.  There  were 
things  in  his  face  which  would  have  puzzled  a  physiog- 
nomist. 

Rochester  had  entered  the  library  and  closed  the  door 
behind  him.  He  nodded  toward  the  man  who  rose  slowly 
to  greet  him,  but  ignored  his  outstretched  hand. 

"  I  am  sure  that  I  cannot  be  mistaken,"  he  said.  "  It 
is  my  young  friend  of  the  hillside." 

"  It  is  he,"  Saton  answered.  "  I  scarcely  expected  to 
be  remembered." 

"  One  sees  so  few  fresh  faces,'*  Rochester  murmured. 
"  You  have  kept  the  condition,  then  ?  I  must  confess 
that  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  I  shall  hope  that  you  will  have 


OLD   ACQUAINTANCES  19 

a  great  deal  that  is  interesting  to  tell  me.  At  any  rate, 
it  is  a  good  sign  that  you  have  kept  the  condition." 

"  I  have  kept  the  condition,"  Saton  answered.  "  I  was 
never  likely  to  break  it.  I  have  wandered  up  and  down 
the  world  a  good  deal  during  the  past  five  years,  and  I 
have  met  many  strange  sorts  of  people,  but  I  have  never 
yet  met  with  philanthropy  on  such  a  unique  scale  as 
yours." 

"  Not  philanthropy,  my  young  friend,"  Rochester 
murmured.  "  I  had  but  one  motive  in  making  you  that 
little  gift  —  curiosity  pure  and  simple." 

"  Forgive  me,"  Saton  remarked.  "  We  will  call  it  a 
loan,  if  you  do  not  mind.  I  am  not  going  to  offer  you 
any  interest.  The  five  hundred  pounds  are  here." 

He  handed  a  little  packet  across  to  Rochester,  who 
slipped  it  carelessly  into  his  pocket. 

"  This  is  romance  indeed ! "  he  declared,  with  some- 
thing of  the  old  banter  in  his  tone.  "  You  are  worse  than 
the  industrious  apprentice.  Have  I,  by  chance,  the  pleas- 
ure of  speaking  to  one  of  the  world's  masters  —  a  mil- 
lionaire? " 

The  young  man  laughed.  His  laugh,  at  any  rate,  was 
not  unpleasant. 

"  No ! "  he  said.  "  I  don't  suppose  that  I  am  even 
wealthy,  as  the  world  reckons  wealth.  I  have  succeeded 
to  a  certain  extent,  although  I  came  very,  very  near  to 
disaster.  I  have  made  a  little  money,  and  I  can  make 
more  when  it  is  necessary." 

"  Your  commercial  instincts,"  Rochester  remarked, 
**  have  not  been  thoroughly  aroused,  then?  " 


20  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

The  young  man  smiled. 

"  Do  I  need  to  tell  you,"  he  asked,  "  that  great  wealth 
was  not  among  the  things  I  saw  that  night  ?  " 

"  That  was  a  marvelous  motor-car  in  which  you 
passed  me,"  remarked  the  other. 

"  It  belongs  to  the  lady,"  Saton  said,  "  who  brought 
me  down  from  London." 

Rochester  nodded. 

"  It  will  be  interesting  to  me,"  he  remarked,  "  later 
on,  to  hear  something  of  your  adventures.  To  judge  by 
your  appearance,  and  your  repayment  of  that  small 
amount  of  money,  you  have  prospered." 

"  One  hates  the  word,"  Saton  murmured,  with  a  sud- 
den frown  upon  his  forehead.  "  I  suppose  I  must  admit 
that  I  have  been  fortunate  to  some  extent.  I  am  able  to 
repay  my  debt  to  you." 

"  That,"  Rochester  interrupted,  "  is  a  trifle.  It  was 
not  worth  considering.  In  fact  I  am  rather  disappointed 
that  you  have  paid  me  back." 

"  I  was  forced  to  do  it,"  Saton  answered.  "  One  can- 
not accept  alms." 

Rochester  eyed  his  visitor  a  little  thoughtfully. 

"  A  platitude  merely,"  he  said.  "  One  accepts  alms 
every  day,  every  moment  of  the  day.  One  goes  about  the 
world  giving  and  receiving.  It  is  a  small  point  of  view 
which  reckons  gold  as  the  only  means  of  exchange." 

The  young  man  bowed. 

"  I  am  corrected,"  he  said.  "  Yet  you  must  admit  that 
there  is  something  different  in  the  obligation  which  is 
created  by  money." 


OLD    ACQUAINTANCES  21 

"  Mine,  I  fear,"  Rochester  answered,  "  is  not  an  ana- 
lytic mind.  A  blunt  regard  to  truth  has  always  been 
one  of  my  characteristics.  Therefore,  at  the  risk  of  in- 
delicacy, I  am  going  on  to  ask  you  a  question.  I  found 
you  on  the  hillside,  a  discontented,  miserable  youth,  and 
I  did  for  you  something  which  very  few  sane  people 
would  have  been  inclined  even  to  consider.  Years  after- 
wards —  it  must  be  nearly  seven,  isn't  it?  —  you  return 
me  my  money,  and  we  exchange  a  few  polite  platitudes. 
I  notice  —  or  is  it  that  I  only  seem  to  notice  —  on  your 
part  an  entire  lack  of  gratitude  for  that  eccentric  action 
of  mine.  The  discontented  boy  has  become,  presumably, 
a  prosperous  citizen  of  the  world.  The  two  are  so  far 
apart,  perhaps " 

Saton  threw  out  his  hands.  For  the  first  time,  there 
flashed  into  his  face  something  of  the  boy,  some  trace  of 
that  more  primitive,  more  passionate  hold  upon  life.  He 
abandoned  his  measured  tones,  his  calm,  almost  studied 
bearing. 

"  Gratitude ! "  he  interrupted.  "  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
feel  any !  In  those  days  I  had  at  least  dreams.  I  am  not 
sure  that  it  was  not  a  devilish  experiment  of  yours  to 
send  me  out  to  grope  my  way  amongst  the  mirages.  You 
were  a  man  of  the  world  then.  You  knew  and  understood. 
You  knew  how  bitter  a  thing  life  is,  how  for  one  who 
climbs,  a  thousand  must  fall.  I  am  not  sure,"  he  re- 
peated, with  a  little  catch  in  his  throat,  "  that  I  feel  any 
gratitude." 

Rochester  nodded  thoughtfully.  He  was  not  in  the 
least  annoyed. 


22  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  You  interest  me,"  he  murmured.  "  From  what  you 
say,  I  gather  that  your  material  prosperity  has  been 
somewhat  dearly  bought." 

"  There  isn't  much  to  be  wrung  from  life,"  Saton  an- 
swered bitterly,  "  that  one  doesn't  pay  for." 

"  A  little  later  on,"  Rochester  said,  "  it  will  give  me 
very  much  pleasure  to  hear  something  of  your  adven- 
tures. At  present,  I  fear  that  I  must  deny  myself  that 
pleasure.  My  wife  has  done  me  the  honor  to  make  me 
one  of  her  somewhat  rare  visits,  and  my  house  is  conse- 
quently full  of  guests." 

"  I  will  not  intrude,"  the  young  man  answered,  ris- 
ing. "  I  shall  stay  in  the  village  for  a  few  days.  We  may 
perhaps  meet  again." 

Rochester  hesitated  for  a  moment.  Then  the  corners 
of  his  mouth  twitched.  There  was  humor  in  this  situa- 
tion, after  all,  and  in  the  thing  which  he  proposed  to 
himself. 

"  You  must  not  hurry  way,"  he  said.  "  Come  and  be 
introduced  to  some  of  my  friends." 

If  Rochester  expected  any  hesitation  on  the  part  of 
his  visitor,  he  was  disappointed.  The  young  man  seemed 
to  accept  the  suggestion  as  the  most  natural  in  the  world. 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad,"  he  said  calmly.  "  I  shall  be  in- 
terested, too,  to  meet  your  wife.  At  the  time  when  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  before,  you  were,  I  believe, 
unmarried." 

Rochester  opened  the  door,  and  led  the  way  out  into 
the  hall  without  a  word. 


R 


CHAPTER  III 

"  WHO    IS    MR.    SATON  ?  " 

£  £  T^\  EALLY,  Henry,"  Lady  Mary  Rochester  said 
to  her  husband,  a  few  minutes  before  the 
dinner-gong  sounded,  "  for  once  you  have 
been  positively  useful.  A  new  young  man  is  such  a 
godsend,  and  Charlie  Peyton  threw  us  over  most  abom- 
inably. So  mean  of  him,  too,  after  the  number  of  times 
I  had  him  to  dine  in  Grosvenor  Square." 

"  He's  gone  to  Ostend,  I  suppose." 

Lady  Mary  nodded. 

"  So  foolish ! "  she  declared.  "  He  hasn't  a  shilling  in 
the  world,  and  he  never  wins  anything.  He  might  just 
as  well  have  come  down  here  and  made  himself  agreeable 
to  Lois." 

"  Matchmaking  again  ?  "  Rochester  asked. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  What  nonsense !  Charlie  is  one  of  my  favorite 
young  men.  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  I  could  spare  him, 
even  to  Lois.  But  the  poor  boy  must  marry  someone ! 
I  don't  see  how  else  he  is  to  live.  By  the  bye,  who  is  your 
protege  ?  " 

Rochester,  who  was  lounging  in  a  low  chair  in  his 
wife's  dressing-room,  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  tip  of 
his  patent  shoe. 


24  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  I  haven't  the  faintest  idea,"  he  declared. 

His  wife  frowned,  a  little  impatiently. 

"  You  are  so  extreme,"  she  protested.  "  Of  course 
you  know  something  about  him.  What  am  I  to  tell  peo- 
ple? They  will  be  sure  to  ask." 

"  Make  them  all  happy,"  Rochester  suggested.  "  Tell 
Lady  Blanche  that  he  is  a  millionaire  from  New  York, 
and  Lois  that  he  is  the  latest  thing  in  Spring  poets. 
They  probably  won't  compare  notes  until  to-morrow,  so 
it  really  doesn't  matter." 

"  I  wish  you  could  be  serious  for  five  minutes,"  Lady 
Mary  said.  "  You  really  are  a  trial,  Henry.  You  seem  to 
see  everything  from  some  quaint  point  of  view  of  your 
own,  and  to  forget  all  the  time  that  there  are  a  few  other 
people  in  the  world  whose  eyesight  is  not  so  distorted. 
Sometimes  I  can't  help  realizing  how  fortunate  it  is  that 
we  see  so  little  of  one  another." 

"  I  can  scarcely  be  expected  to  agree  with  you," 
Rochester  answered,  with  an  ironical  bow.  "  I  must  try 
and  mend  my  ways,  however.  To  return  to  the  actual 
subject  under  discussion,  then,  I  can  really  tell  you  very 
little  about  this  young  man." 

"  You  can  tell  me  where  he  comes  from,  at  any  rate," 
Lady  Mary  remarked. 

Rochester  shook  his  head. 

"  He  comes  from  the  land  of  mysteries,"  he  declared. 
"  I  really  am  ashamed  to  be  so  disappointing,  but  I  only 
met  him  once  before  in  my  life." 

Lady  Mary  sighed  gently. 

"  It  is  almost  a  relief,"  she  said,  "  to  hear  you  admit 


"WHO    IS    MR.    SATON?"  25 

that  you  have  seen  him  before  at  all.  Please  tell  me 
where  it  was  that  you  met,"  she  added,  studying  the  ef- 
fect of  a  tiara  upon  her  splendidly  coiffured  hair. 

"  I  met  him,"  Rochester  answered,  "  sitting  with  his 
back  to  a  rock  on  the  top  of  one  of  my  hills." 

"What,  you  mean  here  at  Beauleys?"  Lady  Mary 
asked. 

"  On  Beacon  Hill,"  her  husband  assented.  "  It  was 
seven  years  ago,  and  as  you  can  gather  from  his  present 
appearance,  he  was  little  more  than  a  boy.  He  sat  there 
in  the  twilight,  seeing  things  down  in  the  valley  which 
did  not  and  never  had  existed  —  seeing  things  that  never 
were  born,  you  know. —  things  for  which  you  stretch 
out  your  arms,  only  to  find  them  float  away.  He  was 
quite  young,  of  course." 

Lady  Mary  turned  around. 

"  Henry  !  "   she  exclaimed. 

"  My  dear?  " 

"  You  are  absolutely  the  most  irritating  person  I  ever 
attempted  to  live  with !  " 

"  And  I  have  tried  so  hard  to  make  myself  agreeable," 
he  sighed. 

"  You  are  one  of  those  uncomfortable  people,"  she 
declared,  "  who  loathe  what  they  call  the  obvious,  and 
adore  riddles.  You  would  commit  any  sort  of  mental 
gymnastic  rather  than  answer  a  plain  question  in  a 
straightforward  manner." 

"  It  is  perfectly  true,"  he  admitted.  "  You  have  such 
insight,  my  dear  Mary." 

"  I  am  to  take  it,  then,"  she  continued,  "  that  you 


26  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

know  absolutely  nothing  about  your  protege?  You 
know  nothing,  for  instance,  about  his  family,  or  his 
means  ?  " 

"  Absolutely  nothing,"  he  admitted.  "  He  has  an  un- 
common name,  but  I  believe  that  I  gathered  from  him 
once  that  his  parentage  was  not  particularly  exalted." 

"  At  least,"  she  said,  with  a  little  sigh,  "  he  is  quite 
presentable.  I  call  him,  in  fact,  remarkably  good-look- 
ing, and  his  manners  leave  nothing  to  be  desired.  He  has 
lived  abroad,  I  should  think." 

"  He  may  have  lived  anywhere,"  Rochester  admitted. 

"  Well,  I'll  have  him  next  me  at  dinner,"  she  declared. 
"  I  daresay  I  shall  find  out  all  about  him  pretty  soon. 
Come,  Henry,  I  am  quite  sure  that  everyone  is  down. 
You  and  I  play  host  and  hostess  so  seldom  that  we  have 
forgotten  our  manners." 

They  descended  to  the  drawing-room,  and  Lady  Mary 
murmured  her  apologies.  Everyone,  however,  seemed  too 
absorbed  to  hear  them.  They  were  listening  to  Saton,  who 
was  standing,  the  centre  of  a  little  group,  telling  stories. 

"  It  was  in  Buenos  Ayres,"  Rochester  heard  him  con- 
clude, amidst  a  ripple  of  laughter.  "  I  can  assure  you 
that  I  saw  the  incident  with  my  own  eyes." 

Lois  Champneyes  —  an  heiress,  pretty,  and  Roches- 
ter's ward  —  came  floating  across  the  room  to  them. 
She  wore  a  plain  muslin  gown,  of  simpler  cut  than  was 
usually  seen  at  Lady  Mary's  house-parties,  and  her  com- 
plexion showed  no  signs  whatever  of  town  life.  Her  hair 
—  it  was  bright  chestnut  color,  merging  in  places  to 
golden  —  was  twisted  simply  in  one  large  coil  on  the  top 


"WHO    IS    MR.    SATON?"  27 

of  her  head.  She  wore  no  jewelry,  and  she  had  very 
much  the  appearance  of  a  child  just  escaped  from  the 
schoolroom. 

"  Mary,"  she  exclaimed,  drawing  her  hostess  on  one 
side,  "  you  must  send  me  in  with  Mr.  Saton !  He  is  per- 
fectly charming,  and  isn't  it  a  lovely  name?  Do  tell  me 
who  he  is,  and  whether  I  may  fall  in  love  with  him." 
Lady  Mary  nodded. 

"  My  dear  child,"  she  said,  "  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the 
sort.  You  are  not  nearly  old  enough  to  take  care  of 
yourself,  and  we  know  nothing  about  this  young  man  at 
all.  Besides,  I  want  him  for  myself." 

"  You  are  the  most  selfish  hostess  I  ever  stayed  with," 
Lois  declared,  turning  away  with  a  little  pout.  "  Never 
mind !  I'll  make  him  talk  to  me  after  dinner." 

"  Is  your  friend  in  the  diplomatic  service?  "  Lord 
Penarvon  asked  Rochester.  "  He  is  a  most  amusing  fel- 
low." 

"  Not  at  present,  at  any  rate,"  Rochester  answered. 
"  I  really  forget  what  he  used  to  do  when  I  met  him  first. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  have  seen  very  little  of  him  lately." 
A  servant  announced  dinner,  and  they  all  trooped  across 
the  hall  a  little  informally.  It  was  only  a  small  party, 
and  Lady  Mary  was  a  hostess  whose  ideas  were  distinctly 
modern.  Conversation  at  first  was  nearly  altogether  gen- 
eral. Saton,  without  in  any  way  asserting  himself,  bore 
at  least  his  part  in  it.  He  spoke  modestly  enough,  and 
yet  everything  he  said  seemed  to  tell.  From  the  first,  the 
dinner  was  a  success. 

Rochester  found  himself  listening  with  a  curiosity  for 


28  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

which  he  could  not  wholly  account,  to  this  young  man, 
seated  only  a  few  feet  away.  His  presence  was  so  decid- 
edly piquant.  It  appealed  immensely  to  his  sense  of 
humor.  Baton's  appearance  was  in  every  respect  irre- 
proachable. His  tie  was  perfectly  tied,  his  collar  of  the 
latest  shape.  His  general  appearance  was  that  of  an  ex- 
ceedingly smart  young  man  about  town.  The  only  sign 
of  eccentricity  which  he  displayed  was  an  unobtrusive 
eyeglass,  suspended  from  his  neck  by  a  narrow  black 
ribbon,  and  which  he  had  only  used  to  study  the  menu. 

Rochester  looked  at  him  across  the  white  tablecloth, 
with  its  glittering  load  of  silver  and  glass,  its  perfumed 
banks  of  pink  blossoms,  and  told  himself  that  one  at  least 
of  his  somewhat  eccentric  experiments  had  borne  strange 
fruit.  He  thought  of  that  night  upon  the  hillside,  the 
boy's  passionate  words,  his  almost  wild  desire  to  realize, 
to  turn  into  actual  life,  the  fantasies  which  were  then 
only  the  creation  of  his  fancy.  How  far  had  he  realized 
them,  he  wondered?  What  did  this  alteration  in  his  ex- 
terior denote?  From  a  few  casual  and  half-forgotten 
inquiries,  Rochester  knew  that  he  was  the  son,  or  rather 
the  orphan  of  working-people  in  the  neighboring  town. 
There  was  nothing  in  his  blood  to  make  him  in  any  way 
the  social  equal  of  these  men  and  women  amongst  whom 
he  now  sat  with  such  perfect  self-possession.  Rochester 
found  himself  watching  for  some  traces  of  inferior 
breeding,  some  lapse  of  speech,  some  signs  of  an  innate 
lack  of  refinement.  The  absence  of  any  of  these  things 
puzzled  him.  Saton  was  assured,  without  being  over-con- 
fident. He  spoke  of  himself  only  seldom.  It  was  marvel- 


"WHO    IS    MR.    SATON?"  29 

ous  how  often  he  seemed  to  avoid  the  use  of  the  first 
person.  He  seemed,  too,  modestly  unconscious  of  the 
fact  that  his  conversation  was  in  any  way  more  interest- 
ing than  the  speech  of  those  by  whom  he  was  surrounded. 

"  You  seem  to  have  lived,"  his  hostess  said  to  him  once, 
"  in  so  many  countries,  Mr.  Saton.  Are  you  really  only 
as  old  as  you  look?  " 

"  How  can  I  answer  that,"  he  asked,  smiling,  "  except 
by  telling  you  that  I  am  twenty-five." 

"  You  must  have  commenced  to  live  in  your  peram- 
bulator," she  declared. 

"  I  have  lived  nowhere,"  he  answered.  "  I  have  visited 
many  places,  and  travelled  through  many  lands,  but  life 
with  me  has  been  a  search." 

"  A  search  ?  "  she  murmured,  dropping  her  voice  a  lit- 
tle, and  intimating  by  the  slight  movement  of  her  head 
towards  him,  that  their  conversation  was  to  become  a 
tete-a-tete.  "  Well,"  she  continued,  "  I  suppose  that  life 
is  that  with  all  of  us,  only  you  see  with  us  poor  frivolous 
people,  a  search  means  nearly  always  the  same  thing  — 
a  search  for  amusement  or  distraction,  whichever  you 
choose  to  call  it." 

Saton  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly. 

"  Different  things  amuse  different  people,"  he  re- 
marked. "  My  search,  I  will  admit,  was  of  a  different 
order." 

"  It  is  finished?  "  she  asked. 

"  It  will  never  be  finished,"  he  answered.  "  The  man 
who  finds  what  he  seeks,"  he  added,  raising  his  dark  eyes 
to  hers,  "  as  a  rule  has  fixed  his  ambitions  too  low." 


3o  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  Speaking  of  ambitions,  Mr.  Saton,"  Lord  Penarvon 
asked  across  the  table,  "  are  you  interested  in  politics  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  Saton  answered  frankly.  "  There 
seem  to  me  to  be  so  many  other  things  in  life  better  worth 
doing  than  making  fugitive  laws  for  a  dissatisfied  coun- 
try." 

"  Tell  me,"  his  hostess  asked,  "  what  do  you  yourself 
consider  the  things  better  worth  doing  ?  " 

Saton  hesitated.  For  the  first  time,  he  seemed  scarcely 
at  his  ease.  He  glanced  across  at  Rochester,  and  down  at 
his  plate. 

"  The  sciences,"  he  answered,  quietly.  "  There  are 
many  torches  lit  which  need  strong  hands  to  carry  them 
forward." 

Lois  leaned  across  the  table.  As  yet  she  had  scarcely 
spoken,  but  she  had  listened  intently  to  his  every  word. 

"  Which  of  the  sciences,  Mr.  Saton  ?  "  she  asked,  a  lit- 
tle breathlessly. 

He  smiled  at  her,  and  hesitated  a  moment  before  an- 
swering. 

"  There  are  so  many,"  he  said,  "  which  are  equally 
fascinating,  but  I  think  that  it  is  always  the  least  known 
which  is  the  most  attractive.  When  I  spoke,  I  was  really 
thinking  of  one  which  many  people  would  scarcely 
reckon  amongst  the  orthodox  list.  I  mean  occultism." 

There  was  a  little  murmur  of  interest.  Saton  himself, 
however,  deliberately  turned  the  conversation.  He  re- 
verted to  a  diplomatic  incident  which  had  come  to  his 
notice  when  in  Brazil,  and  asked  Lord  Penarvon's  opin- 
ion concerning  it. 


"WHO    IS    MR.    SATON?"  31 

"  By  the  bye,"  the  latter  asked,  as  their  conversation 
drew  toward  a  close,  "  how  long  did  you  say  that  you 
had  been  in  England,  Mr.  Saton  ?  " 

"  A  very  short  time,"  Saton  answered,  with  a  faint 
smile.  "  I  have  been  something  of  a  wanderer  for  years." 

"  And  you  came  from  ?  "  Rochester  asked,  leaning  a 
little  forward. 

Saton  smiled  as  his  eyes  met  his  host's.  He  hesitated 
perceptibly. 

"  I  came  from  the  land  where  the  impossible  sometimes 
happens,"  he  answered,  lightly,  "  the  land  where  one 
dreams  in  the  evening,  and  is  never  sure  when  one  wakes 
in  the  morning  that  one's  dreams  have  not  become  solid 
things." 

Lady  Mary  sighed. 

"  Can  one  get  a  Cook's  ticket?  "  she  asked. 

"  Can  one  get  there  by  motor-car,  or  even  flying- 
machine?  "  Lois  demanded.  "  I  would  risk  my  bones  to 
find  my  way  there." 

Saton  laughed. 

"  Unfortunately,"  he  said,  "  there  is  a  different  path 
for  every  one  of  us,  and  there  are  no  signposts." 

Lady  Mary  sighed  as  she  rose  to  her  feet.  She  nodded 
a  friendly  little  farewell  to  her  interesting  neighbor. 

"  Then  we  may  as  well  go  and  have  some  really  good 
bridge,"  she  said,  "  until  you  men  take  it  into  your 
heads  to  come  and  disturb  us." 


CHAPTER  IV 

A    QUESTION   OF   OBLIGATION 

AFTERNOON  tea  was  being  served  in  the  hall 
at  Beauleys  on  the  day  after  Baton's  arrival. 
Saton  himself  was  sitting  with  Lois  Champ- 
neyes  in  a  retired  corner. 

"  I  was  going  to  ask  you,"  he  remarked,  as  he  handed 
her  some  cakes,  "  about  Mr.  Rochester's  marriage.  He 
was  a  bachelor  when  I  —  first  met  him." 

"  Were  you  very  intimate  in  those  days?  "  she  asked. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  he  answered,  with  a  faint  reminis- 
cent smile. 

"  Then  you  never  heard  about  the  romance  of  his 
life  ?  "  she  asked. 

Saton  shook  his  head. 

"  Never,"  he  declared.  "  Nor  should  I  ever  have  asso- 
ciated the  word  with  Mr.  Rochester." 

She  sighed  gently. 

"  I  daresay  he  was  ^ery  different  in  those  days,"  she 
said.  "  Before  the  Beauleys  property  came  to  him,  he 
was  quite  poor,  and  he  was  very  much  in  love  with  the 
dearest  woman  —  Pauline  Hambledon.  It  was  impossible 
for  them  to  marry  —  her  people  wouldn't  hear  of  it  — 
so  he  went  abroad,  and  she  married  Sir  Walter  Marrabel ! 
Such  a  pig !  Everyone  hated  him.  Then  old  Mr.  Stephen 


A    QUESTION    OF   OBLIGATION       33 

Rochester  died  suddenly,  without  a  will,  and  all  this 
property  came  to  Henry !  " 

"  And  then  he  married,  I  suppose?  "  Saton  remarked. 

"  I  was  going  to  tell  you  about  that,"  Lois  continued. 
"  Mary  was  a  niece  of  Stephen  Rochester,  and  a  daugh- 
ter of  the  Marquis  of  Haselton,  who  was  absolutely 
bankrupt  when  he  died.  Stephen  Rochester  adopted  her, 
and  then  died  without  leaving  her  a  farthing !  So  there 
she  was,  poor  dear,  penniless,  and  Henry  had  every- 
thing. Of  course,  he  had  to  marry  her." 

"  Why  not?  "  Saton  remarked.  "  She  is  quite  charm- 
ing." 

"  Yes !  But  this  is  the  tantalizing  part  of  it,"  Lois 
continued.  "  They  hadn't  been  married  a  year  when  Sir 
Walter  Marrabel  died.  Pauline  is  a  widow  now.  She  is 
coming  here  in  a  few  days.  I  do  hope  you  will  meet  her." 

"  This  is  quite  interesting,"  Saton  murmured.  "  How 
do  Lady  Mary  and  her  husband  get  on?  " 

Lois  made  a  little  grimace. 

"  They  go  different  ways  most  of  the  time,"  she  an- 
swered. "  I  suppose  they're  only  what  people  call  mod- 
ern. Isn't  that  a  motor  horn?  "  she  cried  out,  springing 
to  her  feet.  "  I  wonder  if  it's  Guerdie !  " 

"  For  a  man  who  has  been  a  great  lawyer,"  Lord 
Penarvon  declared,  "  Guerdon  is  the  most  uncertain  and 
unpunctual  of  men.  One  never  knows  when  to  expect 
him." 

"  He  was  to  have  arrived  yesterday,"  Lady  Mary  re- 
marked. "  We  sent  to  the  station  twice." 

"  I  suppose,"  Rochester  said,  "  that  even  to  gratify 


34  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

the  impatience  of  an  expectant  house-party,  it  is  not 
possible  to  quicken  the  slow  process  of  the  law.  If  you 
look  at  the  morning  papers,  you  will  see  that  he  was  at 
the  Central  Criminal  Court,  trying  some  case  or  other, 
all  day  yesterday.  The  man  who  pleads  '  Not  Guilty,' 
and  who  pays  for  his  defence,  expects  to  be  heard  out  to 
the  bitter  end.  It  is  really  only  natural." 

Saton,  who  had  been  left  alone  in  his  corner,  rose  sud- 
denly to  his  feet  and  came  into  the  circle.  He  handed 
his  cup  to  his  hostess,  and  turned  toward  Rochester. 

"You  were  speaking  of  judges?"  he  remarked. 

Rochester  nodded. 

"  In  a  few  moments,"  he  said,  "  you  will  probably 
meet  the  cleverest  one  we  have  upon  the  English  bench. 
Without  his  robe  and  wig,  some  people  find  him  insig- 
nificant. Personally,  I  must  confess  that  I  never  feel  his 
eyes  upon  me  without  a  shiver.  They  say  that  he  never 
loses  sight  of  a  fact  or  forgets  a  face." 

"  And  what  is  the  name  of  this  wonderful  person  ?  " 
Saton  asked. 

"  Lord  Guerdon,"  Rochester  answered.  "  Even  though 
you  have  spent  so  little  time  in  England  of  late  years, 
you  must  have  heard  of  him." 

The  curtains  were  suddenly  thrown  aside,  and  a  foot- 
man entered  announcing  the  newly-arrived  guest.  From 
the  hall  beyond  came  the  sound  of  a  departing  motor, 
and  the  clatter  of  luggage  being  brought  in.  The  foot- 
man stood  on  one  side. 

"  Lord  Guerdon  !  "  he  announced. 

Lady  Mary  held  out  her  hands  across  the  tea-tray. 


A    QUESTION    OF    OBLIGATION       35 

Rochester  came  a  few  steps  forward.  Everyone  ceased 
their  conversation  to  look  at  the  small,  spare  figure  of 
the  man  who,  clad  in  a  suit  of  travelling  clothes  of  gray 
tweed,  and  cut  after  a  somewhat  ancient  pattern,  in- 
significant-looking in  figure  and  even  in  bearing,  yet  car- 
ried something  in  his  clean-shaven,  wrinkled  face  at  once 
impressive  and  commanding.  Everyone  seemed  to  lean 
forward  with  a  little  air  of  interest,  prepared  to  ex- 
change greetings  with  him  as  soon  as  he  had  spoken  to 
his  host  and  hostess.  Only  Saton  stood  quite  still,  still 
as  a  figure  turned  suddenly  into  stone.  No  one  ap- 
peared to  notice  him,  to  notice  the  twitching  of  his  fin- 
gers, the  almost  ashen  gray  of  his  cheeks  —  no  one  ex- 
cept the  girl  with  whom  he  had  been  talking,  and  whose 
eyes  had  scarcely  left  his.  He  recovered  himself  quickly. 
When  Rochester  turned  towards  him,  a  moment  or  so 
later,  he  was  almost  at  his  ease. 

"  You  find  us  all  old  friends,  Guerdon,"  he  said,  "  ex- 
cept that  I  have  to  present  to  you  my  friend  Mr.  Saton. 
Saton,  this  is  Lord  Guerdon,  whose  caricature  you  have 
doubtless  admired  in  many  papers,  comic  and  otherwise, 
and  who  I  am  happy  to  assure  you  is  not  nearly  so  ter- 
rible a  person  as  he  might  seem  from  behind  that  om- 
inous iron  bar." 

Saton  held  out  his  hand,  but  almost  immediately  with- 
drawing it,  contented  himself  with  a  murmured  word, 
and  a  somewhat  low  bow.  For  a  second  the  judge's  eye- 
brows were  upraised,  his  keen  eyes  seemed  to  narrow. 
He  made  no  movement  to  shake  hands. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  Mr.  Saton,"  he  said  slowly. 


36  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

"  By  the  bye,"  he  continued,  after  a  second's  pause,  "  is 
this  our  first  meeting?  I  seem  to  have  an  idea  —  your 
face  is  somehow  familiar  to  me." 

There  were  few  men  who  could  have  faced  the  piercing 
gaze  of  those  bright  brown  eyes,  set  deep  in  the  withered 
face,  without  any  sign  of  embarrassment.  Yet  Saton 
smiled  back  pleasantly  enough.  He  was  completely  at  his 
ease.  His  face  showed  only  a  reasonable  amount  of 
pleasure  at  this  encounter  with  the  famous  man. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Lord  Guerdon,"  he  said,  "  that  I  can- 
not claim  the  privilege  of  any  previous  acquaintance. 
Although  I  am  an  Englishman,  my  own  country  has  seen 
little  of  me  during  the  last  few  years." 

"  Come  and  have  some  tea  at  once,"  Lady  Mary  in- 
sisted, looking  up  at  the  judge.  "  I  want  to  hear  all 
about  this  wonderful  Clancorry  case.  Oh,  I  know  you're 
not  supposed  to  talk  about  it,  but  that  really  doesn't 
matter  down  here.  You  shall  have  a  comfortable  chair 
by  my  side,  and  some  hot  muffins." 

Saton  went  back  to  his  seat  by  the  side  of  Lois  Champ- 
neyes,  carrying  his  refilled  teacup  in  his  hand.  She 
looked  at  him  a  little  curiously. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said,  "  have  you  really  never  met  Lord 
Guerdon  before?  " 

"  Never  in  my  life,"  he  answered. 

"  Did  he  remind  you  of  anyone  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  It  is  curious  that  you  should  ask  that,"  Saton  re- 
marked. "  In  a  way  he  did." 

"  I  thought  so,"  she  declared,  with  a  little  breath  of 
relief.  "  That  was  it,  of  course.  Do  you  know  how  you 


A   QUESTION   OF   OBLIGATION       3? 

looked  when  you  first  heard  his  name  —  when  he  came 
into  the  room?  " 

"  I  have  no  idea,"  he  answered.  "  I  only  know  that 
when  I  saw  him  enter,  it  gave  me  almost  a  shock.  He  re- 
minded me  most  strangely  of  a  man  who  has  been  dead 
for  many  years.  I  could  scarcely  take  my  eyes  off  him 
at  first." 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  she  said,  "  what  your  look  reminded 
me  of.  Many  years  before  I  was  out  —  in  my  mother's 
time  —  there  was  a  man  named  Mallory  who  was  tried 
for  murder,  the  murder  of  a  friend,  who  everyone  knew 
was  his  rival.  Well,  he  got  off,  but  only  after  a  long 
trial,  and  only  by  a  little  weakness  in  the  chain  of  evi- 
dence, which  even  his  friends  at  the  time  thought  provi- 
dential. He  went  abroad  for  a  long  time.  Then  he  came 
into  a  title  and  returned  to  England.  He  was  obliged 
to  take  up  his  position,  and  people  were  willing  enough 
to  forget  the  past.  He  opened  his  London  house,  and 
accepted  every  invitation  which  came.  At  the  very  first 
party  he  went  to,  he  came  face  to  face  with  the  judge 
who  had  tried  him.  My  mother  was  there.  I  remember 
she  told  me  how  he  looked.  It  was  foolish  of  me,  but  I 
thought  of  it  when  I  saw  you  just  then." 

Saton  smiled  sympathetically. 

"  And  the  end  of  the  story  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  man  had  such  a  shock,"  she  continued,  "  that  he 
shut  up  his  house,  gave  up  all  his  schemes  for  re-entering 
life,  left  England,  and  never  set  foot  in  the  country 
again." 

Saton  rose  to  his  feet. 


38  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  I  see  that  my  host  is  beckoning  me,"  he  said.  "  Will 
you  excuse  me  for  a  moment?  " 

Rochester  passed  his  arm  through  the  younger  man's. 

"  Come  into  the  gun-room  for  a  few  minutes,"  he  said. 
*'  I  want  to  show  you  the  salmon  flies  I  was  speaking  of." 

Saton  smiled  a  little  curiously,  and  followed  his  host 
across  the  hall  and  down  the  long  stone  passage  which 
led  to  the  back  quarters  of  the  house.  The  gun-room  was 
deserted  and  empty.  Rochester  closed  the  door. 

"  My  young  friend,"  he  said,  "  if  you  do  not  object, 
I  should  like  to  have  a  few  minutes  of  plain  speaking 
with  you." 

"  I  should  be  delighted,"  Saton  answered,  seating  him- 
self deliberately  in  a  battered  old  easy-chair. 

"  Seven  years  ago,"  Rochester  continued,  leaning  his 
elbow  against  the  mantelpiece,  "  we  made  a  bargain.  I 
sent  you  out  into  the  world,  an  egotistical  Don  Quixote, 
and  I  provided  you  with  the  means  with  which  you  were 
to  turn  the  windmills  into  castles.  I  made  one  condition 
—  two,  in  fact.  One  that  you  came  back.  Well,  you  have 
kept  that.  The  other  was  that  you  told  me  what  it  was 
like  to  build  the  castles  of  bricks  and  mortar,  Avhich  in 
the  days  when  I  knew  you,  you  built  in  fancy  only." 

"  Aren't  you  a  little  allegorical  ? "  Saton  asked, 
calmly. 

**  I  admit  it,"  Rochester  answered.  "  I  was  very  nearly, 
in  fact,  out  of  my  depth.  Tell  me,  in  plain  words, 
what  have  you  done  with  yourself  these  seven  years  ?  " 

"  You  want  me,"  Saton  remarked,  "  to  give  an  ac- 
count of  my  stewardship." 


A    QUESTION    OF   OBLIGATION       39 

"  Put  it  any  way  you  please,"  Rochester  answered. 
"  The  fact  remains  that  though  you  are  a  guest  in  my 
house,  you  are  a  complete  stranger  to  me." 

Saton  smiled. 

"  You  might  have  thought  of  that,"  he  said,  "  before 
you  asked  me  here." 

Rochester  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said,  "  I  preferred  to  keep  up  my 
reputation  as  an  eccentric  person.  At  any  rate,  you 
must  remember  that  it  was  open  to  me  at  any  moment 
to  ask  you  the  question  I  have  asked  you  now." 

Saton  sat  perfectly  still  in  his  chair,  his  eyes  ap- 
parently fixed  upon  the  ground.  All  the  time  Rochester 
was  watching  him.  Was  it  seven  years  ago,  seven  years 
only,  since  he  had  stood  by  the  side  of  that  boy,  whose 
longing  eyes  had  been  fixed  with  almost  passionate  in- 
tensity upon  that  world  of  shadows  and  unseen  things? 
This  was  a  different  person.  With  the  swiftness  of  in- 
spiration itself,  he  recognised  something  of  the  change 
which  had  taken  place.  Saton  had  fought  his  battle 
twice  over.  He  might  esteem  himself  a  winner.  He  might 
even  say  that  he  had  proved  it.  Yet  there  was  another 
side.  This  young  man  with  the  lined  face,  and  the  al- 
most unnatural  restraint  of  manner,  might  well  have 
taken  up  the  thread  of  life  which  the  boy  had  laid  down. 
But  there  was  a  difference.  The  thread  might  be  the 
same,  but  it  was  no  longer  of  gold. 

Then  Saton  raised  his  eyes,  and  Rochester,  who  was 
watching  him  intensely,  realized  with  a  sudden  con- 
vincing thrill  something  which  he  had  felt  from  the  mo- 


40  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

ment  when  he  had  stepped  into  the  library  and  welcomed 
this  unexpected  visitor.  There  was  nothing  left  of  grati- 
tude or  even  kindly  feeling  in  the  heart  of  this  young 
man.  There  was  something  else  which  looked  out  from 
his  eyes,  something  else  which  he  did  not  even  trouble 
to  conceal.  Rochester  knew,  from  that  moment,  that  he 
had  an  enemy. 

"  There  are  just  two  things,"  Saton  said  quietly,  "  of 
which  I  should  like  to  remind  you.  The  first  is  that  from 
the  day  I  left  this  house  with  five  hundred  pounds  in 
bank-notes  buttoned  up  in  my  pocket,  I  regarded  that 
sum  as  a  loan.  I  have  always  regarded  it  as  a  loan,  and 
I  have  repaid  it." 

"  I  do  not  consider  your  obligation  to  me  lessened," 
Rochester  remarked  coldly.  "  If  it  was  a  loan,  it  was  a 
loan  such  as  no  sane  man  would  have  made.  You  had 
not  a  penny  in  the  world,  and  I  did  not  even  know  your 
name.  The  chances  were  fifty  to  one  against  my  ever  see- 
ing a  penny  of  my  money  again." 

"  I  admit  that,"  Saton  answered.  "  Yet  I  will  remind 
you  of  your  own  words  —  five  hundred  pounds  were  no 
more  to  you  than  a  crown  piece  to  me.  You  gave  me  the 
money.  You  gave  me  little  else.  You  gave  me  no  en- 
couragement, no  word  of  kindly  advice.  Go  back  that 
seven  years,  and  remember  what  you  said  to  me  when 
you  stood  by  my  side,  toying  with  your  gun,  and  looking 
at  me  superciliously,  as  though  I  were  some  sort  of 
curiosity  which  it  amused  you  to  turn  inside  out. —  The 
one  unforgivable  thing  in  life,  you  said,  was  failure.  Do 
you  remember  telling  me  that  if  I  failed  I  was  to  swim 


A    QUESTION    OF    OBLIGATION       41 

out  on  a  sunny  day  —  to  swim  and  swim  until  the  end 
came?  Do  you  remember  telling  me  that  death  was 
sometimes  a  pleasant  thing,  but  that  life  after  failure 
was  Hell  itself?  " 

Rochester  nodded. 

"  I  always  had  such  a  clear  insight  into  life,"  he  mur- 
mured. "  I  was  perfectly  right." 

"  From  your  point  of  view  you  doubtless  were,"  Saton 
answered.  "  You  were  a  cynic  and  a  pessimist,  and  I  find 
you  now  unchanged.  I  went  away  with  your  words  ring- 
ing in  my  brain.  It  was  the  first  poisonous  thought 
which  had  ever  entered  there,  and  I  never  lost  it.  I  said 
to  myself  that  whatever  price  I  paid  for  success,  success 
of  some  sort  I  would  gain.  When  things  went  against 
me,  I  seemed  to  hear  always  those  bitter,  supercilious 
words.  I  could  even  see  the  curl  of  your  lips  as  you 
looked  down  upon  me,  and  figured  to  yourself  the  only 
possible  result  of  trusting  me,  an  unfledged,  imaginative 
boy,  with  the  means  to  carve  his  way  a  little  further  into 
the  world.  Failure !  I  wrote  the  word  out  of  the  diction- 
ary of  my  life.  Sin,  crime,  ill-doing  of  any  sort  if  they 
became  necessary , —  I  kept  them  there.  But  failure  — 
no !  And  this  was  your  doing.  Now  you  come  to  ask  me 
questions.  You  want  to  know  if  I  am  a  fit  and  proper 
person  to  receive  in  your  house.  Perhaps  I  have  sinned. 
Perhaps  I  have  robbed.  Perhaps  I  have  proved  myself 
a  master  in  every  form  of  ill-doing.  But  I  have  not 
failed !  I  have  paid  you  back  your  five  hundred  pounds." 
"  The  question  of  ethics,"  Rochester  remarked,  "  in- 
terests me  very  little  if  at  all.  The  only  point  is  that 


42  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

whereas  on  the  hillside  you  were  simply  a  stray  unit  of 
humanity,  and  the  things  which  we  said  to  one  another 
concerned  ourselves  only,  here  matters  are  a  little  differ- 
ent. In  a  thoughtless  moment,  I  asked  you  to  become  a 
guest  under  my  roof.  It  was,  I  frankly  admit,  a  mis- 
take. I  trust  that  I  need  not  say  more." 

"  If  you  will  have  my  things  removed  to  the  Inn," 
Saton  said  slowly  — 

"  No  such  extreme  measures  are  necessary,"  Rochester 
answered.  "  You  will  stay  with  us  until  to-morrow  morn- 
ing. After  luncheon  you  will  probably  find  it  convenient 
to  terminate  your  visit  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  I  shall  be  gone,"  Saton  answered,  "  before  any  of 
your  guests  are  up.  In  case  I  do  not  see  you  again 
alone,  let  me  ask  you  a  question,  or  rather  a  favor." 

Rochester  bowed  slightly. 

"  There  is  a  house  below  the  Convalescent  Home  — 
Blackbird's  Nest,  they  call  it,"  Saton  said.  "  It  is  empty 
now  —  too  large  for  your  keepers,  too  small  for  a  coun- 
try seat.  Will  you  let  it  to  me  ?  " 

Rochester  looked  at  him  with  uplifted  eyebrows. 

"  Let  it  to  you  ?  "  he  repeated.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say 
that  after  an  adventurous  career  such  as  I  imagine  you 
have  had,  you  think  of  settling  down,  at  your  age,  in  a 
neighborhood  like  this  ?  " 

"  Scarcely  that,"  Saton  answered.  "  I  shall  be  here 
only  for  a  few  days  at  a  time,  at  different  periods  in  the 
year.  The  one  taste  which  I  share  in  common  with  the 
boy  whom  you  knew,  is  a  love  for  the  country,  especially 
this  part  of  it." 


A    QUESTION    OF    OBLIGATION       43 

"  You  wish  to  live  there  alone?  "  Rochester  asked. 

"  There  is  one  —  other  person,"  Saton  answered  with 
some  hesitation. 

Rochester  sighed  gently. 

"  Alas  !  "  he  said.  "  Instinct  tells  me  that  that  person 
will  turn  out  to  be  of  the  other  sex.  If  only  you  knew, 
my  young  friend,  what  the  morals  of  this  neighbor- 
hood are,  you  would  understand  how  fatal  your  pro- 
posal is." 

Something  that  was  almost  malign  gleamed  for  a  mo- 
ment in  Saton's  eyes. 

"  It  is  true,"  he  said,  "  that  the  person  I  spoke  of  is 
a  woman,  but  as  she  is  at  least  sixty  years  old,  and  can 
only  walk  with  the  help  of  a  stick,  I  do  not  think  that 
she  would  be  apt  to  disturb  the  moral  prejudices  of 
your  friends." 

"  What  has  she  to  do  with  you  ?  "  Rochester  asked,  a 
little  shortly.  "  Have  you  found  relatives  out  in  the 
world,  or  are  you  married?  " 

Saton  smiled. 

"  I  am  not  married,"  he  answered,  "  and  as  the  lady 
in  question  is  a  foreigner,  there  is  no  question  of  any 
relationship  between  us.  I  am,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  her 
adopted  son." 

"  You  can  go  and  see  my  agent,"  Rochester  an- 
swered. "  Personally,  I  shall  not  interfere.  I  am  to  take 
it  for  granted,  then,  I  presume,  that  you  have  nothing 
more  to  tell  me  concerning  yourself?  " 

"  At  present,  nothing,"  Saton  answered.  "  Some  day, 
perhaps,"  he  added,  rising,  "  I  may  tell  you  everything. 


44  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

You  see,"  he  added,  "  I  feel  that  my  life,  such  as  it  is, 
is  in  some  respects  dedicated  to  you,  and  that  you  there- 
fore have  a  certain  right  to  know  something  of  it.  But 
that  time  has  not  come  yet." 

Once  more  there  was  a  short  and  somewhat  inexpli- 
cable pause,  and  once  more  Rochester  knew  that  he  was  in 
the  presence  of  an  enemy.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  turned  toward  the  door. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  we  had  better  be  getting  off. 
Guerdon  is  a  decent  fellow,  but  he  always  needs  looking 
after.  If  he  is  bored  for  five  minutes,  he  gets  sulky.  If 
he  is  bored  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  he  goes  home.  You 
never  met  Lord  Guerdon  before,  I  suppose  ?  "  he  asked, 
as  he  threw  open  the  door. 

They  were  men  of  nerve,  both  of  them.  Neither 
flinched.  Rochester's  question  had  been  asked  in  an  ab- 
solutely matter-of-fact  tone,  and  Baton's  reply  was  en- 
tirely casual.  Yet  he  knew  very  well  that  it  was  only 
since  the  coming  of  the  great  judge  that  Rochester  had 
suddenly  realized  that  amongst  the  guests  staying  in  his 
house,  there  was  one  who  might  have  been  any  sort  of 
criminal. 

"  I  have  seen  him  in  court,"  Saton  remarked,  with  a 
slight  smile,  "  and  of  course  I  have  seen  pictures  of  him 
everywhere.  Do  not  let  me  keep  you,  please.  I  have  some 
letters  to  write  in  my  room." 

Rochester  went  back  to  his  guests.  His  brows  were 
knitted.  He  was  unusually  thoughtful.  His  wife,  who 
was  watching  him,  called  him  across  to  the  bridge  table, 
where  she  was  dummy. 


A    QUESTION    OF   OBLIGATION       45 

"  Well?  "  she  asked.  "  What  is  it?  " 

Rochester  looked  down  at  her.  The  corners  of  his 
mouth  slowly  unbent. 

"  Have  you  ever  heard,"  he  whispered  in  her  ear,  "  of 
the  legend  of  the  Frankenstein?  " 


M 


CHAPTER  V 

A    MOKXIXG    WALK 

£  £  1%  4T  Y  dear  Henry,"  Lady  Mary  said,  a  few 
days  later,  swinging  round  in  her  chair 
from  the  writing-table,  "  whatever  in  this 
world  induced  you  to  encourage  that  extraordinary  per- 
son Bertrand  Saton  to  settle  down  in  this  part  of  the 
world?" 

Rochester  continued  for  a  moment  to  gaze  out  of  the 
window  across  the  Park,  with  expressionless  face. 

"  My  dear  Mary,"  he  said,  "  I  did  not  encourage  him 
to  do  anything  of  the  sort." 

"  You  let  him  Blackbird's  Nest,"  she  reminded  him. 

"  I  had  scarcely  a  reasonable  excuse  for  refusing  to 
let  it,"  Rochester  answered.  "  I  did  not  suggest  that  he 
should  take  it.  I  merely  referred  him  to  my  agents.  He 
went  to  see  old  Bland  the  very  next  morning,  and  the 
thing  was  arranged." 

"  I  think,"  Lady  Mary  said  deliberately,  "  that  it  is 
one  of  those  cases  where  you  should  have  exercised  a 
little  more  discrimination.  This  is  a  small  neighbor- 
hood, and  I  find  it  irritating  to  be  continually  running 
up  against  people  whom  I  dislike." 

"  You  dislike  Saton  ?  "  Rochester  remarked,  noncha- 
lantly. 


A   MORNING   WALK  47 

"  Dislike  is  perhaps  a  strong  word,"  his  wife  an- 
swered. "  I  distrust  him.  I  disbelieve  in  him.  And  I  dis- 
like exceedingly  the  friendship  between  him  and  Lois." 

Rochester  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Does  it  amount  to  a  friendship?  "  he  asked. 

"What  else?"  his  wife  answered.  "It  was  obvious 
that  she  was  interested  in  him  when  he  was  staying  here, 
and  twice  since  I  have  met  them  walking  together.  I  hate 
mysterious  people.  They  tell  me  that  he  has  made  Black- 
bird's Nest  look  like  a  museum  inside,  and  there  is  the 
most  awful  old  woman,  with  white  hair  and  black  eyes, 
who  never  leaves  his  side,  they  say,  when  he  is  at  home." 

"  She  is,"  Rochester  remarked,  "  I  presume,  of  an  age 
to  disarm  scandal?  " 

"  She  looks  as  old  as  Methuselah,"  his  wife  answered, 
"  but  what  does  the  man  want  with  such  a  creature  at 
all?" 

"  She  may  be  an  elderly  relative,"  Rochester  sug- 
gested. 

"  Relative?  Why,  she  calls  herself  the  Comtesse  some- 
body ! "  Lady  Mary  declared.  "  I  do  wish  you  would 
tell  me,  Henry,  exactly  what  you  know  and  what  you  do 
not  know  about  this  young  man." 

"  What  I  do  know  is  simple  enough,"  he  answered. 
"  What  I  do  not  know  would,  I  begin  to  believe,  fill  a 
volume." 

"  Then  you  had  better  go  and  see  him,  and  readjust 
matters,"  she  declared,  a  little  sharply.  "  I  want  Lois  to 
marry  well,  and  she  mustn't  have  her  head  turned  by  this 
young  man." 


48  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

Rochester  strolled  through  the  open  French-window 
into  the  flower-garden.  He  pulled  a  low  basket  chair  out 
into  the  sun,  close  to  a  bed  of  pink  and  white  hyacinths. 
A  man-servant,  seeing  him,  brought  out  the  morning  pa- 
pers, which  had  just  arrived,  but  Rochester  waved  them 
away. 

"  Fancy  reading  the  newspapers  on  a  morning  like 
this !  "  he  murmured,  half  to  himself.  "  The  person  who 
would  welcome  the  intrusion  of  a  world  of  vulgar  facts 
into  an  aesthetically  perfect  half-hour,  deserves  —  well, 
deserves  to  be  the  sort  of  person  he  must  be.  Take  the 
papers  away,  Groves,"  he  added,  as  the  man  stood  by,  a 
little  embarrassed.  "  Take  them  to  Lord  Penarvon  or 
Mr.  Hinckley." 

The  man  bowed  and  withdrew.  Rochester  half  closed 
his  eyes,  but  opened  them  again  almost  immediately.  A 
white  clad  figure  was  passing  down  the  path  on  the  other 
side  of  the  lawn.  He  roused  himself  to  a  sitting  posture. 

"  Lois !  "  he  called  out.  "  Lois !  " 

She  waved  her  hand,  but  did  not  stop.  He  rose  to  his 
feet  and  called  again.  She  paused  with  a  reluctance  which 
was  indifferently  concealed. 

"  I  am  going  down  to  the  village,"  she  said. 

He  crossed  the  lawn  towards  her. 

"  I  will  be  a  model  host,"  he  said,  "  and  come  with 
you.  It  is  always  the  function  of  the  model  host,  is  it 
not,  to  neglect  the  whole  of  the  rest  of  the  guests,  and 
attach  himself  to  the  one  most  charming?  " 

She  shook  her  head  at  him. 

"  I  dare  not  risk  being  so  unpopular,"  she  declared. 


A    MORNING   WALK  49 

"  Really,  don't  bother  to  come.  It  is  such  a  very  short 
distance." 

"  That  decides  me,"  he  answered,  falling  into  step 
with  her.  "  A  short  walk  is  exactly  what  I  want.  For  the 
last  few  days  I  have  been  oppressed  with  a  horrible  fear. 
I  am  afraid  of  growing  fat !  " 

She  looked  at  his  long  slim  figure,  and  laughed  de- 
risively. 

"  You  will  have  to  find  another  reason  for  this  sud- 
den desire  for  exercise,"  she  remarked. 

"  Do  I  need  to  find  one  ?  "  he  answered,  laughing  down 
into  her  pretty  face. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  This  is  all  very  well,"  she  said,  "  but  I  quite  under- 
stand that  it  is  my  last  morning.  I  know  what  will  hap- 
pen this  afternoon,  and  I  really  do  not  think  that  I  shall 
allow  you  to  come  past  that  gate." 

"  Why  not?  "  he  asked  earnestly. 

"  You  know  very  well  that  Pauline  is  coming,"  she 
answered. 

The  change  in  his  face  was  too  slight  for  her  to  notice 
it,  but  there  was  a  change.  His  lips  moved  as  though 
he  were  repeating  the  name  to  himself. 

"  And  why  should  Pauline's  coming  affect  the  situa- 
tion ?  "  he  asked. 

She  shook  her  head. , 

"  You  say  nice  things  to  me,"  she  declared,  looking  at 
him  reproachfully,  "  but  only  when  Pauline  isn't  here. 
We  all  know  that  directly  she  comes  we  are  no  longer  any 
of  us  human  beings.  I  wish  I  were  intelligent." 


5o  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  Don't !  "  he  begged.  "  Don't  wish  anything  so  fool- 
ish. Intelligence  is  the  greatest  curse  of  the  day.  Few 
people  possess  it,  it  is  true,  but  those  few  spend  most 
of  their  time  wishing  they  were  fools." 

"  Am  I  a  fool?  "  she  asked. 

"  Of  course,"  he  answered.  "  All  pretty  and  charm- 
ing people  are  fools." 

"  And  Pauline?  "  she  asked. 

"  Pauline,  unfortunately,  is  amongst  the  cursed,"  he 
answered. 

"  That,  I  suppose,"  she  remarked,  "  is  what  brings 
you  so  close  together." 

"  It  is  a  bond  of  common  suffering,"  he  declared. 
"  By  the  bye,  who  is  this  ferocious-looking  person  ?  " 

It  was  Saton  who  had  suddenly  turned  the  corner,  and 
whose  expression  had  certainly  darkened  for  a  moment 
as  he  came  face  to  face  with  the  two.  He  was  correctly 
enough  dressed  in  gray  tweeds  and  thick  walking  boots, 
but  somehow  or  other  his  sallow  face  and  dark,  plentiful 
hair,  seemed  to  go  oddly  with  his  country  clothes. 

Rochester  glanced  at  his  companion,  and  he  distinctly 
saw  a  little  grimace.  Saton  would  have  passed  on,  for 
Rochester's  nod  was  of  the  slightest,  but  Lois  insisted 
upon  stopping. 

"  Mr.  Saton,"  she  said,  "  I  have  been  hearing  all  sorts 
of  wonderful  things  about  your  house.  When  are  you 
going  to  ask  us  all  to  tea  to  see  your  curiosities  ?  " 

Saton  looked  into  Rochester's  immovable  face. 

"  Whenever  you  choose  to  come,"  he  answered  calmly. 
"  I  am  nearly  always  at  home  in  the  afternoon,  or  rather 


A    MORNING   WALK  51 

I  shall  be  after  next  Thursday,"  he  added,  as  an  after- 
thought. "  I  am  going  to  town  this  evening." 

"  Going  away  ?  "  she  asked,  a  little  blankly. 

"  I  have  to  go  up  to  London,"  he  answered,  "  but  it 
is  only  for  two  days." 

There  was  a  short,  uneasy  silence.  Rochester  pur- 
posely avoided  speech.  He  understood  the  situation  ex- 
actly. They  had  something  to  say  to  one  another,  and 
wished  him  away. 

"  You  won't  be  able  to  send  me  that  book,  then?  "  she 
asked. 

"  I  will  leave  it  at  the  house  this  afternoon,  if  I  may," 
he  answered,  half  looking  toward  Rochester. 

Rochester  made  no  sign.  Saton  raised  his  cap  and 
passed  on. 

"  Wonderful  syringa  bush,  that,"  Rochester  remarked, 
pointing  with  his  stick. 

"  Wonderful !  "  Lois  answered. 

"  Quite  an  ideal  village,  mine,"  he  continued.  "  You 
see  there  are  crocuses  growing  out  even  in  the  roadway." 

"  Very  pretty !  "  she  answered. 

"  You  are  not  by  any  chance  annoyed  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  think  you  were  very  civil  to  that  poor 
young  man." 

"  Naturally,"  he  answered.  "  I  didn't  mean  to  be  civil. 
I  am  one  of  those  simple  folk  who  are  always  annoyed  by 
the  incomprehensible.  I  do  not  understand  Mr.  Bertrand 
Saton.  I  do  not  quite  understand,  either,  why  you  should 
find  him  an  interesting  companion  for  your  morning 
walks." 


52  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

"  You  are  a  hateful  person ! "  she  declared,  as  he  held 
open  the  gate  which  led  back  to  the  Park. 

"  I  intend  to  remain  so,"  he  answered  drily. 

The  sound  of  footsteps  coming  along  the  path  which 
they  had  just  quitted,  attracted  his  attention  mo- 
mentarily. He  turned  round.  Lois,  too,  hesitated. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  the  newcomer  said,  "  but 
can  you  tell  me  whereabouts  in  this  neighborhood  I  can 
find  a  house  called  Blackbird's  Nest?  A  Mr.  Bertrand 
Saton  lives  there,  I  believe." 

Rochester  hesitated  for  a  few  seconds.  He  looked 
at  the  woman,  summing  her  up  with  swift  comprehension. 
Lois,  by  his  side,  stared  at  her  in  surprise.  She  was  in- 
clined to  be  stout,  and  her  face  was  flushed  with  walking, 
notwithstanding  an  obviously  recent  use  of  the  powder- 
puff.  A  mass  of  copper-colored  hair  was  untidily  ar- 
ranged underneath  a  large  black  hat.  Her  clothes  were 
fashionable  in  cut,  but  cheap  in  quality.  She  wore  open- 
work stockings  and  high-heeled  shoes,  which  had  already 
suffered  from  walking  along  the  dusty  roads.  While  she 
waited  for  an  answer  to  her  question,  she  drew  a  hand- 
kerchief from  her  pocket,  and  the  perfume  of  the  violet 
scented  hedge  by  the  side  of  which  they  stood,  was  no 
longer  a  thing  apparent. 

Rochester,  whose  hatred  of  perfumes  was  one  of  his 
few  weaknesses,  drew  back  a  step  involuntarily. 

"  If  you  pass  through  the  village,"  he  said,  "  Black- 
bird's Nest  is  the  second  house  upon  the  right-hand  side. 
It  lies  a  little  way  back  from  the  road,  but  you  cannot 
miss  it." 


A   MORNING   WALK  53 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  very  much  obliged,"  the  lady  an- 
swered. "  If  I  had  known  it  was  as  far  as  this,  I'd  have 
waited  till  I  could  have  found  a  carriage.  The  porter 
at  the  station  told  me  that  it  was  just  a  step." 

Rochester  raised  his  cap  and  turned  away.  Lois  walked 
soberly  by  his  side  for  several  moments. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said  softly,  "  what  a  person  like  that 
could  want  with  Mr.  Saton." 

Rochester  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  We  know  nothing  of  Saton  or  his  life,"  he  answered. 
"  He  has  wandered  up  and  down  the  world,  and  I  dare- 
say he  has  made  some  queer  acquaintances." 

"  But  his  taste,"  Lois  persisted,  "  is  so  perfect.  I 
cannot  understand  his  permitting  a  creature  like  that  to 
even  come  near  him." 

Rochester  smiled. 

"  One  does  strange  things  under  compulsion,"  he  re- 
marked. "  I  see  that  they  have  been  rolling  the  putting 
greens.  Shall  we  go  and  challenge  Penarvon  and  Mrs. 
Hinckley  to  a  round  at  golf?  " 

She  glanced  once  more  over  her  shoulder  toward  the 
village  —  perhaps  beyond. 

"  If  you  like,"  she  answered,  resignedly. 


CHAPTER  VI 

PAULINE    MARRABEL 

THE  words  which  passed  between  Pauline  Mar- 
rabel  and  her  host  at  the  railway  station 
were  words  which  the  whole  world  might  have 
heard  and  remained  unedified.  The  first  part  of  their 
drive  homeward,  even,  passed  in  complete  silence.  Yet  if 
their  faces  told  the  story,  Rochester  was  with  the  woman 
he  loved.  He  had  driven  a  small  pony-cart  to  the  sta- 
tion. There  was  no  room,  even,  for  a  groom  behind. 
They  sat  side  by  side,  jogging  on  through  the  green 
country  lanes,  until  they  came  to  the  long  hill  which  led 
to  the  higher  country.  The  luggage  cart  and  the  om- 
nibus, with  her  maid  and  the  groom  who  had  driven 
down  with  Rochester,  passed  them  soon  after  they  had 
left  the  station.  They  were  alone  in  the  country  lane, 
alone  behind  a  fat  pony,  who  had  ideas  of  his  own  as  to 
what  was  the  proper  pace  to  travel  on  a  warm  spring 
afternoon. 

More  than  once  he  looked  at  her.  Her  oval  face  was 
almost  devoid  of  color.  There  were  rings  underneath 
her  large  soft  eyes.  Her  dark  hair  was  brushed  simply 
back  from  her  forehead.  Her  travelling  clothes  were  of 
the  plainest.  Yet  she  was  always  beautiful  —  more  so 
than  ever  just  now,  perhaps,  when  the  slight  hardness 


PAULINE    MARRABEL  55 

had  gone  from  her  mouth,  and  the  strain  had  passed 
from  her  features. 

Rochester,  too,  was  curiously  altered  by  the  change  in 
the  curve  of  his  lips.  There  was  a  new  smile  there,  a  new 
light  in  his  eyes  as  they  jogged  on  between  the  honey- 
suckle-wreathed hedges.  Their  silence  was  even  curiously 
protracted,  but  underneath  the  holland  apron  his  left 
hand  was  clasping  hers. 

"  How  are  things  with  you  ?  "  she  asked  softly. 

"  About  the  same,"  he  answered.  "  We  make  the  best 
of  it,  you  know.  Mary  amuses  herself  easily  enough. 
She  has  what  she  wanted  —  a  home,  and  I  have  someone 
to  entertain  my  guests.  I  believe  that  we  are  considered 
quite  a  model  couple." 

Pauline  sighed. 

"  Henry,"  she  said,  "  it  is  beautiful  to  be  here,  to  be 
here  with  you.  The  days  will  not  seem  long  enough." 

Rochester,  so  apt  of  speech,  seemed  curiously  tongue- 
tied.  His  fingers  pressed  hers.  He  made  no  answer.  She 
leaned  a  little  forward  and  looked  into  his  face. 

"  Wonderful  person !  "  she  declared.  "  Never  a  line  or 
a  wrinkle ! " 

He  smiled. 

"  I  live  quietly,"  he  said.  "  I  am  out  of  doors  all 
day.  Excitement  of  any  sort  has  not  touched  my  life 
for  many  years.  Sometimes  I  feel  that  this  perfect  health 
is  a  torture.  Sometimes  I  am  afraid  of  never  growing 
old." 

She  laughed  very  softly  —  a  dear,  familiar  sound  it 
was  to  him.  He  turned  his  head  to  watch  the  curve  of 


56  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

the  lips  that  he  loved,  the  faint  contraction  of  her  eye- 
brows as  the  smile  spread. 

"  You  dear  man !  "  she  murmured.  "  To  look  at  you 
makes  me  feel  quite  passee." 

"  The  Daily  Telegraph  should  reassure  you,"  he  an- 
swered. "  I  read  this  morning  that  the  most  beautiful 
woman  at  the  Opera  last  night  was  Lady  Marrabel." 

"  The  Daily  Telegraph  man  is  such  a  delightful  crea- 
ture," she  answered.  "  I  do  not  like  reporters,  but  I 
fancy  that  I  must  once  have  been  civil  to  this  one  by 
mistake.  Henry,  you  have  had  the  road  shortened.  I  am 
perfectly  certain  of  it.  We  cannot  be  there." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  the  sad  truth,"  he  answered.  "  You 
see  they  are  all  having  tea  upon  the  lawn." 

He  touched  the  pony  with  his  whip,  and  turning  off 
the  main  avenue,  drew  up  at  the  bottom  of  one  of  the 
lawns,  before  a  sunk  fence.  A  servant  came  hurrying 
down  to  the  pony's  head,  and  together  Pauline  and  he 
made  their  way  across  the  short  green  turf  to  where 
Lady  Mary  was  dispensing  tea.  Rochester's  face  sud- 
denly darkened.  Seated  next  to  his  wife,  with  Lois  on 
the  other  side  of  him,  was  Saton ! 

Lady  Mary  rose  to  welcome  her  guest,  and  Rochester 
exchanged  greetings  with  some  callers  who  had  just 
arrived.  To  Saton  he  merely  nodded,  but  when  a  little 
later  Lois  rose,  and  announced  that  she  was  going  to 
show  Mr.  Saton  the  orchid  houses,  he  intervened  lazily. 

"  We  will  all  go,"  he  said.  "  Lady  Penarvon  is  inter- 
ested in  orchids,  and  I  am  sure  that  Pauline  would  like 
to  see  the  houses." 


PAULINE   MARRABEL  57 

"  I  am  interested  in  everything  belonging  to  this  de- 
lightful place,"  she  declared,  rising. 

Lois  frowned  slightly.  Saton's  face  remained  inscru- 
table. In  the  general  exodus  Rochester  found  himself  for 
a  moment  behind  with  his  wife. 

"  Did  you  encourage  that  young  man  to  stay  to  tea  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  I  thought  you  disliked  him  so  much." 

Lady  Mary  sighed.  She  was  a  gentle,  fluffy  little 
creature,  who  had  a  new  whim  every  few  minutes. 

"  I  am  so  changeable,"  she  declared.  "  I  detested  him 
yesterday.  He  wore  such  an  ugly  tie,  and  he  would 
monopolize  Lois.  This  afternoon  I  found  him  most  inter- 
esting. I  believe  he  knows  all  about  the  future,  if  one 
could  only  get  him  to  tell  us  things." 

"  Really  !  "  Rochester  remarked  politely. 

"  He  has  been  talking  in  a  most  interesting  fashion," 
continued  Lady  Mary. 

"  Has  he  been  telling  you  all  your  fortunes  ?  " 

"  You  put  it  so  crudely,  my  dear  Henry,"  his  wife  de- 
clared. "  Of  course  he  doesn't  tell  fortunes !  Only  he's 
the  sort  of  person  that  if  one  really  wanted  to  know  any- 
thing, I  believe  his  advice  would  be  better  than  most  peo- 
ples'. Perhaps  he  will  talk  to  us  about  it  after  dinner." 

"  What,  is  he  dining  here  ?  "  Rochester  asked. 

"  I  have  asked  him  to,"  Lady  Mary  answered,  com- 
placently. "  We  are  short  of  young  men,  as  you  know, 
and  really  this  afternoon  he  quite  fascinated  us  all.  The 
dear  Duchess  is  so  difficult  and  heavy  to  entertain,  but 
she  quite  woke  up  when  he  began  to  talk.  Lady  Penar- 
von  just  told  me  that  she  thought  he  was  wonderful." 


58  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  He  seems  to  have  the  knack  of  interesting  women," 
Rochester  remarked. 

"  And  therefore,  I  suppose,"  Lady  Mary  said,  "  you 
men  will  all  hate  him.  Never  mind,  I  have  changed  my 
opinion  entirely.  I  think  that  he  is  going  to  be  an  ac- 
quisition to  the  neighborhood,  and  I  am  going  to  study 
occultism." 

Rochester  turned  away  with  a  barely  concealed  gri- 
mace. He  went  up  to  Lois,  calmly  usurping  Saton's 
place. 

"  My  dear  Lois,"  he  said,  as  they  fell  behind  a  few 
paces,  "  so  your  latest  young  man  has  been  charming 
everybody." 

"  He  is  nice,  isn't  he?  "  she  answered,  turning  to  him 
a  little  impulsively. 

"  Marvelously !  "  Rochester  answered.  "  Hatefully 
so !  Has  he  told  you  anything,  by  the  bye,  about  him- 
self? " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Nothing  that  I  can  remember,"  she  answered.  "  He 
is  so  clever,"  she  added,  enthusiastically,  "  and  he  has  ex- 
plained all  sorts  of  wonderful  things  to  me.  If  one  had 
only  brains,"  she  continued,  with  a  little  sigh,  "  there 
is  so  much  to  learn." 

Rochester  picked  a  great  red  rose  and  handed  it  to 
her. 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  said,  "  there  is  nothing  in  knowl- 
edge so  beautiful  as  that  flower.  By  the  bye,"  he  added, 
raising  his  voice  to  Saton,  who  was  just  ahead,  "  I 
thought  you  were  going  to  London  to-day." 


PAULINE    MARRABEL  59 

"  I  have  put  off  my  visit  until  to-morrow,"  Saton  an- 
swered. "  Your  wife  has  been  kind  enough  to  ask  me  to 
dine." 

Rochester  nodded.  He  carefully  avoided  endorsing  the 
invitation. 

"  By  the  bye,"  he  remarked,  "  we  had  the  pleasure  of 
directing  a  lady  in  distress  to  your  house  this  morning." 

Saton  paused  for  a  moment  before  he  answered. 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,"  he  said. 

He  offered  no  explanation.  Rochester,  with  a  little 
shrug  of  the  shoulders,  rejoined  Pauline.  Lady  Mary 
was  called  away  to  receive  some  visitors,  and  for  the  first 
time  Lois  and  Saton  were  alone. 

"  Mr.  Rochester  has  taken  a  dislike  to  me,"  he  said 
quietly. 

Lois  was  distressed. 

"  I  wonder  why,"  she  said.  "  As  a  rule  he  is  so  indif- 
ferent to  people." 

Saton  shook  his  head  a  little  sadly. 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  he  answered.  "  Certainly  I  cannot 
think  of  anything  I  have  done  to  offend  him.  But  I  am 
nearly  always  unfortunate.  The  people  whom  I  would 
like  to  have  care  about  me,  as  a  rule  don't." 

"  There  are  exceptions,"  she  murmured. 

She  met  his  eyes,  and  looked  away.  He  smiled  softly  to 
himself.  Women  had  looked  away  from  him  before  like 
that! 

"  Fortunately,"  he  continued,  "  Lady  Mary  seems  to 
be  a  little  more  gracious.  It  was  very  kind  of  her  to  ask 
me  to  dine  to-night." 


60  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

"  She  is  always  so  interested,"  Lois  said,  "  in  things 
which  she  does  not  understand.  You  talked  so  well  this 
afternoon,  Mr.  Saton.  I  am  afraid  I  could  not  follow 
you,  but  it  sounded  very  brilliant  and  very  wonderful." 

"  One  speaks  convincingly,"  he  said,  "  when  one  really 
feels.  Some  day,  remember,"  he  continued,  "  we  are  go- 
ing to  have  a  long,  long  talk.  We  are  going  to  begin  at 
the  beginning,  and  you  are  going  to  let  me  help  you 
to  understand  how  many  wonderful  things  there  are 
in  life  which  scarcely  any  of  us  ever  even  think  about. 
I  wonder " 

"  Well?  "  she  asked,  looking  up  at  him. 

"  Will  they  let  me  take  you  down  to  dinner?  " 

She  shook  her  head  doubtfully. 

"  I  am  afraid  not,"  she  said.  "  I  am  almost  certain 
to  go  in  with  Captain  Vandermere." 

He  sighed. 

"  After  all,"  he  said,  "  perhaps  I  had  better  have 
taken  that  train  to  town." 


CHAPTER  VH 

AN    UNWELCOME   VISITOR 

SATON  was  only  a  few  minutes  being  whirled 
down  the  avenue  of  Beauleys  and  up  along  the 
narrow  country  lane,  wreathed  with  honeysuckle 
and  wild  roses,  to  Blackbird's  Nest.  He  leaned  back  in 
the  great  car,  his  unseeing  eyes  travelling  over  the  quiet 
landscape.  There  was  something  out  of  keeping,  a  little 
uncanny,  even,  in  the  flight  of  the  motor-car  with  its 
solitary  passenger  along  the  country  lane,  past  the  hay 
carts,  and  the  villagers  resting  after  their  long  day's 
toil.  The  man  who  leaned  back  amongst  the  cushions, 
with  his  pale,  drawn  face,  and  dark,  melancholy  eyes, 
seemed  to  them  like  a  creature  from  another  world,  even 
as  the  vehicle  in  which  he  travelled,  so  swift  and  luxu- 
rious, filled  them  with  wonder.  Saton  heard  nothing  of 
their  respectful  good-nights.  He  saw  nothing  of  their 
doffed  hats  and  curious,  wondering  glances.  He  was 
thinking  with  a  considerable  amount  of  uneasiness  of  the 
interview  which  probably  lay  before  him. 

The  car  turned  in  at  the  rude  gates,  and  climbed  the 
rough  road  which  led  to  Saton's  temporary  abode.  A 
servant  met  him  at  the  door  as  he  descended,  a  gray- 
haired,  elderly  man,  irreproachably  attired,  whose  man- 
ner denoted  at  once  the  well-trained  servant. 


62  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  There  is  a  lady  here,  sir,"  he  said  — "  she  arrived 
some  hours  ago  —  who  has  been  waiting  to  see  you.  You 
will  find  her  in  the  morning-room." 

Saton  took  off  his  hat,  and  moved  slowly  down  the 
little  hall. 

"  I  trust  that  I  did  not  make  a  mistake,  sir,  in  allowing 
her  to  wait  ?  "  the  man  asked.  "  She  assured  me  that  she 
was  intimately  known  to  you." 

"  You  were  quite  right,  Parkins,"  Saton  answered. 
"  I  think  I  know  who  she  is,  but  I  was  scarcely  expecting 
her  to-day." 

He  opened  the  door  of  the  morning-room  and  closed  it 
quickly.  The  woman  rose  up  from  the  couch,  where  she 
had  apparently  been  asleep,  and  looked  at  him. 

"  At  last !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Bertrand,  do  you  know 
that  I  have  been  here  since  the  morning  ?  " 

"  How  was  I  to  know?  "  he  answered.  "  You  sent  no 
word  that  you  were  coming.  I  certainly  did  not  expect 
you." 

"  Are  you  glad?  "  she  asked,  a  little  abruptly. 

"  I  am  always  glad  to  see  you,  Violet,"  he  said,  put- 
ting his  arm  around  her  waist  and  kissing  her.  "  All  the 
same,  I  am  not  sure  that  your  coming  here  is  altogether 
wise." 

"  I  waited  as  long  as  I  could,"  she  answered.  "  You 
didn't  come  to  me.  You  scarcely  even  answered  my  let- 
ters. I  couldn't  bear  it  any  longer.  I  had  to  come  and 
see  you.  Bertrand,  you  haven't  forgotten?  Tell  me  that 
you  haven't  forgotten." 

He  sat  down  by  her  side.  She  was  a  young  woman, 


AN   UNWELCOME   VISITOR  63 

and  though  her  face  was  a  little  hardened  by  the  con- 
stant use  of  cosmetics,  she  was  still  well  enough  looking. 

"  My.  dear  Violet,"  he  said,  "  of  course  I  have  not  for- 
gotten. Only  don't  you  see  how  unwise  it  is  of  you  to 
come  down  here  ?  If  she  were  to  know " 

"  She  will  not  know,"  the  girl  interrupted.  "  She  is 
safe  in  London,  and  will  be  there  for  a  week." 

"  The  servants  here  might  tell  her  that  you  have  been," 
he  suggested. 

"  You  will  have  to  see  to  it  that  they  don't,"  she  said. 
"  Bertrand,  I  am  so  unhappy.  When  are  you  coming 
back?" 

"  Very  soon,"  he  answered. 

"  We  can  spend  the  evening  together,  can't  we  ?  "  she 
asked,  looking  at  him  anxiously.  "  My  train  doesn't  go 
back  until  nine." 

"  That  is  just  what  we  cannot  do,"  he  answered. 
"  You  did  not  tell  me  that  you  were  coming,  and  I  have 
to  go  out  to  dinner  to-night." 

"  To  dinner?  Here?  "  she  repeated.  "You  have  soon 
made  friends."  And  her  face  darkened. 

"  I  stayed  here  when  I  was  a  boy,"  he  answered. 
"  There  is  someone  living  here  who  knew  me  then." 

"  Can't  you  put  it  off,  Bertrand?  "  she  begged.  "  It 
is  five  weeks  since  I  have  seen  you.  Every  day  I  have 
hoped  that  you  would  run  up,  if  it  was  only  for  an  hour. 
Bertrand  dear,  don't  go  to  this  dinner.  Can't  we  have 
something  here,  and  go  for  a  walk  in  the  country  before 
my  train  goes,  or  sit  in  your  study  and  talk?  There  are 
so  many  things  I  want  to  ask  you  about  our  future." 


64  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

He  took  her  hand  and  leaned  towards  her. 

"  My  dear  Violet,"  he  said,  "  you  must  be  reasonable. 
I  dare  not  offend  these  people  with  whom  I  have  prom- 
ised to  dine,  and  apart  from  that,  I  think  it  is  very  un- 
wise that  I  should  spend  any  time  at  all  here  with  you. 
You  know  what  sort  of  a  person  it  is  whom  we  both 
have  to  consider.  She  would  turn  us  both  into  the  street 
and  treat  it  all  as  a  jest,  if  it  pleased  her.  I  tell  you 
frankly,  Violet,  I  have  been  too  near  starvation  once  to 
care  about  facing  it  again.  I  am  going  to  send  you  back 
to  the  station  in  the  car  now.  You  can  catch  a  train  to 
London  almost  at  once." 

Her  face  grew  suddenly  hard.  She  looked  older.  The 
light  which  had  flashed  into  her  face  at  his  coming,  was 
gone.  One  saw  now  the  irregularities  of  her  complexion, 
the  over-red  lips. 

"  You  dismiss  me,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "  I  have 
come  all  this  way,  have  waited  all  this  time,  and  you 
throw  me  a  kiss  out  of  pity,  and  you  tell  me  to  go  home 
as  fast  as  I  can.  Bertrand,  you  did  not  talk  like  this  a 
few  months  ago.  You  did  not  talk  like  this  when  you 
asked  me  to  marry  you !  " 

"  Nor  shall  I  talk  like  it,"  he  answered,  "  when  we 
meet  once  more  in  London,  and  have  another  of  our  cosy 
little  dinners.  But  frankly,  you  are  doing  an  absolutely 
unwise  thing  in  staying  here.  These  people  are  not  my 
servants.  They  are  hers.  They  are  beyond  my  bribing. 
Violet,"  he  added,  dropping  his  voice  a  little,  and  draw- 
ing her  into  his  arms,  "  don't  be  foolish,  dear.  Don't  run 
the  risk  of  bringing  disaster  upon  both  of  us.  You 


AN   UNWELCOME   VISITOR  65 

wouldn't  care  to  have  to  do  without  her  now.  Nor  should 
I.  It  was  a  little  thoughtless  of  you  to  come,  dear.  Do 
follow  my  advice  now,  and  I  will  try  and  make  it  up 
to  you  very  soon.  I  shall  certainly  be  in  London  next 
week." 

She  rested  in  his  arms  for  a  moment  with  half  closed 
eyes,  as  though  content  with  his  words  and  his  embrace. 
Yet,  as  she  disengaged  herself,  she  sighed  a  little.  She 
was  willing  to  deceive  herself  —  she  was  anxious  to  do 
so  —  but  always  the  doubt  remained ! 

"  Very  well,  Bertrand,"  she  said,  "  I  will  go." 

"  You  will  just  catch  a  fast  train  to  London,"  he  said, 
more  cheerfully.  "  You  will  change  at  Mechester,  and 
you  will  find  a  dining-car  there.  Have  you  plenty  of 
money  ?  " 

"  Plenty,  thank  you,"  she  answered. 

He  walked  with  her  out  into  the  hall. 

"  Madame  will  be  so  sorry,"  he  said,  "  to  have  missed 
you.  The  telegram  must  have  been  a  complete  misun- 
derstanding. Till  next  week,  then." 

He  handed  her  into  the  car,  and  raising  her  fingers 
to  his  lips,  kissed  them  gallantly. 

"  To  the  station,  William,"  he  ordered  the  chauffeur, 
"  and  then  get  back  for  me  as  quickly  as  you  can." 

The  car  swung  off.  Saton  stood  watching  it  with 
darkening  face.  There  was  some  pity  in  his  heart  for 
this  somewhat  passee  young  person,  who  had  been  kind 
to  him  during  those  first  few  weeks  of  his  re-entering 
into  life.  He  recognised  the  fact  that  his  swift  progress 
was  unfortunate  for  her.  He  even  sat  for  a  moment  or 


66  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

two  smoking  a  cigarette  in  his  very  luxurious  dressing- 
room,  fingering  the  gold-topped  bottles  of  his  dressing- 
case,  and  wondering  what  would  be  the  most  effectual  and 
least  painful  means  of  coming  to  an  understanding  with 
her! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AN  INSTANCE   OF   OCCULTISM 

THE  guests  at  Beauleys  were  all  grouped  to- 
gether in  the  hall  after  dinner,  the  men,  and 
some  of  the  women,  smoking  cigarettes.  Cof- 
fee and  liqueurs  were  being  served  from  the  great  oak 
sideboard.  Lord  Guerdon  and  his  host  had  drawn  a  lit- 
tle apart  from  the  others,  at  the  former's  instigation. 

"  Your  friend  Saton  —  extraordinary  name,  by  the 
bye  —  seems  to  have  struck  upon  an  interesting  theme 
of  conversation,"  the  judge  remarked,  a  little  drily, 
glancing  across  to  where  Saton  stood,  surrounded  by 
most  of  the  other  guests. 

"  He  has  travelled  a  great  deal,"  Rochester  said,  "  and 
he  seems  to  be  one  of  that  extravagant  sort  of  persons 
who  imbibe  more  or  less  the  ideas  of  every  country. 
Chiefly  froth,  I  should  imagine,  but  it  gives  him  plenty 
to  talk  about." 

The  judge  nodded  thoughtfully. 

"  His  face,"  he  declared,  "  still  puzzles  me  a  little. 
Sometimes  I  am  sure  that  I  have  seen  it  before.  At 
others,  I  find  it  quite  unfamiliar." 

Rochester,  who  was  watching  Pauline,  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

"  We  may  as  well  hear  what  the  fellow  is  talking 


68  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

about,"  he  remarked.  "  Let  us  join  the  adoring 
throng."  .  .  . 

"  I  will  tell  you  one  thing  which  I  have  realized  in  the 
course  of  my  travels,"  Saton  was  saying  as  they  drew 
near.  "  Amongst  all  the  nations  of  the  world,  we  Eng- 
lish are  at  once  the  most  ignorant,  and  the  slowest  to 
receive  a  new  thing.  In  the  exact  sciences,  we  are  per- 
haps just  able  to  hold  our  own,  but  when  it  comes  to  the 
great  unexplored  fields,  the  average  English  person  turns 
away  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders.  '  I  do  not  believe ! ' 
he  says  stolidly,  and  that  is  sufficient.  He  does  not  be- 
lieve! Since  the  birth  of  Time  there  has  been  no  more 
pitiful  cry  than  that." 

"  One  might  easily  be  convinced  that  the  fellow  is  in 
earnest,"  Rochester  whispered. 

The  judge  laid  his  hand  upon  his  host's  shoulder. 
There  was  a  curious  gleam  in  those  deep-set  eyes. 

"  Let  him  go  on,"  he  said.  "  This  is  interesting.  I  be- 
gin to  remember." 

"  We  all  have  a  hobby,  I  suppose,"  Saton  continued. 
"  Mine  has  always  been  the  study  of  the  least  under- 
stood of  the  sciences  —  I  mean  occultism.  I,  too,  was 
prejudiced  at  first.  I  saw  wonderful  things  in  India,  and 
my  British  instincts  rose  up  like  a  wall.  I  did  not  be- 
lieve. I  refused  to  believe  my  eyes.  In  Egypt,  and  on 
the  west  coast  of  Africa,  I  had  the  chance  of  learning 
new  things,  and  again  I  refused.  But  there  came  a  time 
when  even  I  was  impressed.  Then  I  began  to  study.  I 
began  to  see  that  some  of  those  things  which  we  accept 
as  being  wonderful,  and  from  which  we  turn  away  with 


AN    INSTANCE    OF    OCCULTISM       69 

a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  are  capable  of  explanation  — 
are  submissive,  in  fact,  to  natural  laws.  There  is  not  a 
doubt  that  in  the  generations  to  come,  people  will  smile 
upon  us,  and  pity  us  for  our  colossal  stupidity." 

"  No  wise  person,  my  dear  Mr.  Saton,"  Mrs.  Hinck- 
ley  remarked,  "  would  deny  that  there  is  yet  a  great  deal 
to  learn  in  life.  But  tell  us  exactly  to  what  you  refer?  " 

Saton  raised  his  dark  eyes  and  looked  steadfastly  at 
her. 

"  I  mean,  madam,"  he  said,  "  the  apprehension  of 
things  happening  in  the  present  in  other  parts,  the  ap- 
prehension of  things  about  to  happen  in  the  future. 
Our  brain  we  realize,  and  our  muscles,  but  there  is  a 
subtler  part  of  ourselves,  of  which  we  are  as  ignorant 
to-day  as  our  forefathers  were  of  electricity." 

Lady  Mary  drew  a  little  sigh. 

"  This  is  so  fascinating,"  she  said.  "  Do  you  really 
believe,  then,  that  it  is  possible  to  foretell  the  future?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  Saton  answered  quietly.  "  The  world  is 
governed  by  laws  just  as  inevitable  as  the  physical  laws 
which  govern  the  seasons.  It  is  only  a  matter  of  appre- 
hension, a  deliberate  schooling  of  ourselves  into  the 
necessary  temperament." 

"  Then  all  these  people  in  Bond  Street  —  these  crys- 
tal gazers  and  fortune-tellers — "  Lois  began  eagerly. 

"  They  are  charlatans,  and  stand  in  the  way  of  prog- 
ress," Saton  declared,  fiercely.  "  They  have  not  the 
faintest  glimmering  of  the  truth,  and  they  turn  what 
should  be  the  greatest  of  the  sciences  into  buffoonery. 
To  the  real  student  it  is  never  possible  to  answer  ques- 


70  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

tions  to  foretell  specific  things.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is 
as  sure  as  the  coming  of  night  itself  that  there  are  times 
when  a  person  who  has  studied  these  matters  even  so 
slightly  as  I  myself,  can  feel  the  coming  of  events." 

"  Give  us  an  instance,"  Lady  Mary  begged.  "  Tell  us 
of  something  that  is  going  to  happen." 

Saton  moved  a  little  back.  His  face  was  unnaturally 
pale. 

"  No ! "  he  answered.  "  Don't  ask  me  that.  Remem- 
ber, this  is  not  a  game.  It  might  even  happen  that  I 
should  tell  you  something  terrifying.  I  am  sorry  that 
I've  talked  like  this,"  he  went  on,  a  little  wildly.  "  I  am 
sorry  that  I  came  here  to-night.  Before  I  came  I  felt  it 
coming.  If  you  will  excuse  me,  Lady  Mary " 

She  held  out  her  hands  and  refused  to  accept  his 
adieux. 

"  You  shall  not  go !  "  she  declared.  "  There  is  some- 
thing in  your  mind.  You  could  tell  us  something  if  you 
would." 

Saton  looked  around,  as  one  genuinely  anxious  to  es- 
cape. On  the  outskirts  of  the  circle  he  saw  Rochester, 
smiling  faintly,  half  amused,  half  contemptuous,  and  by 
his  side  the  parchment-like  face  of  Lord  Guerdon,  whose 
eyes  seemed  riveted  upon  his. 

"  My  dear  Saton,"  Rochester  said,  "  pray  don't  dis- 
appoint us  of  our  thrill,  after  all  this  most  effective  pre- 
liminary. You  believe  that  you  possess  a  gift  which  we 
none  of  us  share.  Give  us  a  proof  of  it.  No  one  here  is 
afraid  to  hear  the  truth.  Is  it  one  specific  thing  you 
could  tell?  " 


AN    INSTANCE    OF    OCCULTISM       71 

"  One  specific  thing,"  Saton  answered  quickly,  "  about 
to  happen  to  one  person,  and  one  person  only." 

"  Is  it  a  man  or  a  woman  ?  "  Rochester  asked. 

"  A  man !  "  was  the  quick  reply. 

Rochester  glanced  carelessly  around  the  little  circle. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  the  women  can  have  their  thrill. 
There  is  nothing  to  fear.  Penarvon  here  has  all  the  pluck 
in  the  world.  Hinckley  is  a  V.C.  Captain  Vandermere  is 
a  soldier,  and  I  will  answer  for  it  that  he  has  no  nerves. 
Guerdon  and  I,  I  am  sure,  are  safe.  Let  us  hear  your 
gruesome  prophecy,  my  dear  Saton,  and  if  it  comes  true, 
we  will  form  a  little  society,  and  you  shall  be  our  apostle. 
We  will  study  occultism  in  place  of  bridge.  We  will  be 
the  founders  of  a  new  cult." 

Saton  pushed  them  away  from  him.  His  face  was  al- 
most ghastly. 

"  It  is  not  fair,  this,"  he  cried.  "  You  do  not  know 
what  you  are  asking.  Can't  you  feel  it,  any  of  you  others, 
as  I  do  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  looking  a  little  wildly  around. 
"  There  is  something  else  in  the  room,  something  else  be- 
sides you  warm  and  living  people.  Be  still,  all  of  you." 

There  was  a  moment's  breathless  silence.  Some  papers 
on  the  table  rustled.  A  picture  on  the  wall  shook.  Lady 
Mary  sat  down  in  a  chair.  Lois  gave  a  little  scream. 

"  There  is  a  slight  draught,"  Rochester  remarked, 
calmly. 

"  It  is  no  draught,"  Saton  answered.  "  You  want  the 
truth  and  you  shall  have  it.  See,  there  are  five  men  pres- 
ent."—  He  counted  rapidly  with  his  forefinger.  "  One 
of  them  will  be  dead  before  we  leave  this  room." 


72  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

Rochester  strolled  over  to  the  sideboard,  and  helped 
himself  to  a  cigarette. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  this  is  going  a  little  too  far ! 
Look  at  the  cheeks  of  these  ladies,  Saton.  A  little  melo- 
drama is  all  very  well,  but  you  are  too  good  an  actor. 
Hinckley,  and  all  of  you,"  he  said,  looking  around,  "  I 
propose  that  we  end  the  strain.  Let  us  go  into  the  bil- 
liard-room and  have  a  pool.  I  presume  that  the  spell  will 
then  be  broken." 

Lady  Mary  shrieked. 

"  Don't  move,  any  of  you ! "  she  cried.  "  I  am 
afraid!" 

Rochester  laughed  softly,  and  crossed  the  floor  with 
firm  footsteps.  He  stood  on  the  threshold  of  the  door 
leading  to  the  billiard-room. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  I  am  indeed  between  life  and  death, 
for  I  have  one  foot  in  one  room  and  one  in  the  other. 
Come,  you  others,  and  seek  safety  too." 

The  women  also  rose.  There  was  a  rush  for  the  door, 
a  swish  of  draperies,  a  little  sob  from  Lois,  who  was 
terrified.  Saton  remained  standing  alone.  He  had  not 
moved.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  figure  of  the  judge, 
who  also  lingered.  They  two  were  left  in  the  centre  of 
the  hall. 

"  Come,  Guerdon,"  Rochester  cried.  "  You  and  I  will 
take  the  lot  on." 

Guerdon  did  not  move.  He  motioned  to  Saton  slightly. 

"  Young  man,"  he  said,  "  we  have  met  before.  I  said 
so  when  you  first  came  in.  My  memory  is  improving." 

Saton  leaned  forward. 


Some  water,  quick,  and  brandy,"  Rochester  cried. 

[Page  73 


AN    INSTANCE    OF   OCCULTISM       73 

"  Be  careful,  judge,"  he  said. 

"  Be  careful  be  d — d !  "  the  judge  answered.  "  Roches- 
ter, come  here.  God  in  Heaven !  " 

His  left  hand  went  suddenly  to  his  throat.  He  almost 
tore  away  the  collar  and  primly  arranged  tie.  Rochester 
was  by  his  side  in  a  second,  and  saved  him  from  falling. 
His  face  was  white  to  the  lips.  A  shriek  from  the  women 
rang  through  the  hall,  and  came  echoing  back  again 
from  the  black  rafters. 

"  Some  water  quick,  and  brandy,"  Rochester  cried, 
tearing  open  the  shirt  from  the  man  he  was  supporting. 
"  Send  for  a  doctor,  someone.  Penarvon,  you  see  to  that. 
Let  them  take  the  motor.  Keep  those  d — d  women 
quiet ! " 

The  judge  opened  his  eyes. 

"  I  remember  him,"  he  faltered. 

"  Drink  some  of  this,  old  fellow,"  Rochester  said. 
"  You'll  be  better  in  a  moment." 

The  judge's  eyes  were  closed  again.  He  had  suddenly 
become  a  dead  weight  on  Rochester's  arm.  Vandermere, 
who  had  done  amateur  doctoring  at  the  war,  brought  a 
pillow  for  his  head.  They  cut  off  more  of  his  clothes. 
They  tried  by  every  means  to  keep  a  flicker  of  life  in 
him  until  the  doctor  came.  Only  Rochester  knew  it  was 
useless.  He  had  seen  the  shadow  of  death  pass  across  the 
gray,  stricken  face. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A    SKNTIMENTAL    TALK 

LOIS  opened  the  gate  and  stole  into  the  lane  with 
the  air  of  a  guilty  child.  She  gave  a  little  gasp 
as  she  came  face  to  face  with  Saton,  and  pick- 
ing up  her  skirts,  seemed  for  a  moment  about  to  fly.  He 
stood  quite  still  —  his  face  was  sad  —  almost  reproach- 
ful. She  dropped  her  skirt  and  came  slowly,  doubtfully 
towards  him. 

"  I  have  come,"  she  said.  "  I  was  forced  to  come. 
Oh,  Mr.  Saton !  How  could  you  ?  " 

His  features  were  wan.  There  were  lines  under  his 
dark  eyes.  He  was  looking  thin  and  nervous.  His  voice, 
too,  had  lost  some  of  its  pleasant  qualities. 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  he  said,  "  my  dear  Lois, 
what  do  you  mean  ?  You  don't  suppose  —  you  can't  — 
that  it  was  through  me  in  any  way  that  —  that  thing 
happened?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know ! "  she  faltered,  with  white  lips. 
"  It  was  all  so  horrible.  You  pointed  to  him,  and  your 
eyes  when  you  looked  at  him  seemed  to  shine  as  though 
they  were  on  fire.  I  saw  him  shrink  away,  and  the  color 
leave  his  cheeks.  It  was  horrible !  " 

"  But,  Lois,"  he  protested,  "  you  cannot  imagine  that 
by  looking  at  a  man  I  could  help  to  kill  him  ?  I  can't  ex- 


A    SENTIMENTAL    TALK  75 

plain  what  happened.  As  yet  there  are  things  in  the 
world  which  no  one  can  explain.  This  is  one  of  them.  I 
know  a  little  more  than  most  people.  It  is  partly  tem- 
perament, perhaps  —  partly  study,  but  it  is  surely  true 
that  I  can  sometimes  feel  things  coming.  From  the  first 
moment  I  looked  into  Guerdon's  face  at  dinner-time,  I 
knew  what  was  going  to  happen.  Out  there  in  the  hall 
I  felt  it.  Once  before  in  South  America,  I  saw  a  man 
shoot  himself.  I  tell  you  that  I  was  certain  of  what  he 
was  going  to  do  before  I  knew  that  he  had  even  a  re- 
volver in  his  pocket.  It  comes  to  me,  the  knowledge  of 
these  things.  I  cannot  be  blamed  for  it.  Some  day  I  shall 
write  the  first  text-book  that  has  ever  been  written  of 
a  new  science.  I  shall  evolve  the  first  few  rudimentary 
laws,  and  after  that  the  thing  will  go  easily.  Every  gen- 
eration will  add  to  them.  But,  Lois,  because  I  am  the 
first,  because  I  have  seen  a  little  further  into  the  world 
than  others,  you  are  not  going  to  look  at  me  as  though 
I  were  a  murderer !  " 

She  drew  a  little  breath,  a  breath  of  relief.  Her  hand 
fell  upon  his  arm. 

"  No ! "  she  said.  "  I  have  been  foolish.  It  is  absurd 
to  imagine  that  you  could  have  brought  that  about  by 
just  wishing  for  it." 

"  Why,  even,  should  I  have  wished  for  it  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  Lord  Guerdon  was  a  stranger  to  me.  As  an  acquain- 
tance I  found  him  pleasant  enough.  I  had  no  grudge 
against  him." 

She  drew  him  a  little  way  on  down  the  lane. 

"  I  must  only  stay  for  a  few  minutes,"  she  said.   "  If 


76  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

we  walk  down  here  we  shall  meet  nobody.  Do  you  know 
what  Mr.  Rochester  has  suggested?  " 

"No!"  Saton  answered.  "What?" 

"  He  says  that  Lord  Guerdon  had  always  been  un- 
easily conscious  of  having  seen  you  somewhere  before. 
He  says  that  at  the  very  moment  when  he  was  stricken 
down,  he  seemed  to  remember !  " 

"  That  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  important,"  Saton 
remarked. 

"  Can't  you  understand? "  she  continued.  "  Mr. 
Rochester  seems  to  think  that  Lord  Guerdon  had  seen 
you  somewhere  under  disgraceful  circumstances.  There ! 
I've  got  it  out  now,"  she  added,  with  a  wan  little  smile. 
"  That  is  why  he  feels  sure  that  somehow  or  other  you 
did  your  best  to  help  him  toward  death." 

"  And  the  others  ?  "  Saton  asked. 

"  Oh,  it  hasn't  been  talked  about ! "  she  answered. 
"  Everyone  has  left  the  house,  you  know.  I  only  knew 
this  through  Mary." 

Saton  smiled  scornfully. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  he  said,  "  I  know  for  a  fact  that 
Lord  Guerdon  was  suffering  from  acute  heart  disease. 
He  went  about  always  with  a  letter  in  his  pocket  giving 
directions  as  to  what  should  become  of  him  if  he  were 
to  die  suddenly." 

"Is  that  really  true?"  she  asked.  "Oh,  I  am  glad! 
Lord  Penarvon  said  so,  but  no  one  else  seemed  sure." 

"  There  is  no  need,  even  for  an  inquest,"  Saton  con- 
tinued. "  I  went  to  see  the  doctor  this  morning,  and  he 
told  me  so.  I  am  very,  very  sorry,"  he  went  on,  taking 


A    SENTIMENTAL    TALK  77 

her  hand  in  his,  "  that  such  a  thing  should  happen  to 
spoil  the  memory  of  these  few  days.  They  have  been 
wonderful  days,  Lois." 

She  drew  her  hand  quietly  away. 

"  Yes !  "  she  admitted.  "  They  have  been  wonderful  in 
many  ways." 

"  For  you,"  he  continued,  walking  a  little  more  slowly, 
and  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  him,  "  they  have  been, 
perhaps,  just  a  tiny  little  leaf  out  of  the  book  of  your 
life.  To  me  I  fancy  they  have  been  something  different. 
You  see  I  have  been  a  wanderer  all  my  days.  I  have  had 
no  home,  and  I  have  had  few  friends.  All  the  time  I 
have  had  to  fight,  and  there  seems  to  have  been  no  time 
for  the  gentler  things,  for  the  things  that  really  make 
for  happiness.  Perhaps,"  he  continued,  reflectively, 
"  that  is  why  I  find  it  sometimes  a  little  difficult  to  talk 
to  you.  You  are  so  young  and  fresh  and  wonderful. 
Your  feet  are  scarcely  yet  upon  the  threshold  of  the  life 
whose  scars  I  am  bearing." 

"  I  am  not  so  very  young,"  Lois  said,  "  nor  are  you 
so  very  old." 

"  And  yet,"  he  answered,  looking  into  her  face,  "  there 
is  a  great  gulf  between  us,  a  gulf,  perhaps,  of  more  than 
years.  Miss  Lois,  I  am  not  going  to  ask  you  too  much, 
but  I  would  like  to  ask  you  one  thing.  Have  these  days 
meant  just  a  little  to  you  also?  " 

She  raised  her  eyes  and  looked  him  frankly  in  the  face. 
They  were  honest  brown  eyes,  a  little  clouded  just  now 
with  some  reflection  of  the  vague  trouble  which  was  stir- 
ring in  her  heart. 


78  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  I  will  answer  you  frankly,"  she  said.  "  Yes,  they 
have  meant  something  to  me !  And  yet,  listen.  I  am  go- 
ing to  say  something  unkind.  There  is  something  —  I 
don't  know  what  it  is  —  between  us,  which  troubles  me. 
Oh,  I  know  that  you  are  much  cleverer  than  other  men, 
and  I  would  not  have  you  different !  Yet  there  is  some- 
thing else.  Would  you  be  very  angry,  I  wonder,  if  I  told 
the  truth?" 

"  No !  "  he  assured  her.  "  Go  on,  please." 

"  I  feel  sometimes,"  she  continued,  "  as  though  I  could 
not  trust  you.  There,  don't  be  angry,"  she  went  on,  lay- 
ing her  fingers  on  his  arm.  "  I  know  how  horrid  it 
sounds,  but  it  is  there  in  my  heart,  and  it  is  because  I 
would  like  to  believe,  it  is  because  I  want  there  to  be 
nothing  between  us  of  distrust,  that  I  have  told  you." 

They  walked  slowly  on,  side  by  side.  His  face  was 
turned  a  little  from  hers.  She  was  bending  forward,  as 
though  anxious  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  his  expression. 
Through  the  case  hardening  of  years,  her  voice  for  a 
moment  seemed  to  have  found  its  way  back  into  the  heart 
of  the  boy,  to  have  brought  him  at  least  a  momentary 
twinge  as  he  realized,  with  a  passing  regret,  the  abstract 
beauty  of  the  more  simple  ways  in  life.  Those  few  min- 
utes were  effective  enough.  They  helped  his  pose.  The 
regret  passed.  A  shadow  of  pain  took  its  place.  He 
came  to  a  standstill  and  took  her  hands  in  his. 

"  Dear  little  girl,"  he  said,  "  perhaps  you  are  right. 
I  am  not  altogether  honest.  I  am  not  in  the  least  like  the 
sort  of  man  who  ought  to  look  at  you  and  feel  towards 
you  as  I  have  looked  and  felt  during  these  wonderful 


A    SENTIMENTAL    TALK  79 

days.  But  all  of  us  have  our  weak  spots,  you  know.  I 
think  that  you  found  mine.  Good-bye,  little  girl !  " 

She  would  have  called  him  back,  but  he  had  no  idea 
of  lending  himself  to  anything  so  inartistic.  With*  head 
thrown  back,  he  left  the  footpath  and  climbed  the  hill 
round  which  they  had  been  walking.  Not  once  did  he 
look  behind.  Not  once  did  he  turn  his  head  till  he  stood 
on  the  top  of  the  rock-strewn  eminence,  his  figure  clearly 
outlined  against  the  blue  sky.  Then  he  straightened  him- 
self and  turned  round,  thinking  all  the  time  how  won- 
derfully effective  his  profile  must  seem  in  that  deep,  soft 
light,  if  she  should  have  the  sense  to  look. 

She  did  look.  She  was  standing  very  nearly  where  he 
had  left  her.  She  was  waving  her  handkerchief,  beckon- 
ing him  to  come  down.  He  raised  his  hand  above  his  head 
as  though  in  farewell,  and  turned  slowly  away.  As  soon 
as  he  was  quite  sure  that  he  was  out  of  sight,  he  took  his 
cigarette  case  from  his  pocket  and  began  to  smoke ! 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    SCENE    CHANGES 

SATON  left  the  country  on  the  following  after- 
noon, arrived  at  St.  Pancras  soon  after  five,  and 
drove  at  once  to  a  large,  roomy  house  on  the  north 
side  of  Regent's  Park.  He  was  admitted  by  a  trim  par- 
lormaid —  Parkins  had  been  left  behind  to  superin- 
tend the  removal  from  Blackbird's  Nest  —  and  he  found 
himself  asking  his  first  question  with  a  certain  amount 
of  temerity. 

"  Madame  is  in  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Madame  is  in  the  drawing-room,"  the  maid  answered. 

"Alone?"  Saton  asked. 

"  Quite  alone,  sir." 

Saton  ascended  the  stairs  and  entered  the  drawing- 
room,  which  was  on  the  first  floor,  unannounced.  At  the 
further  end  of  the  apartment  a  woman  was  sitting,  her 
hands  folded  in  front  of  her,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
wall.  Saton  advanced  with  outstretched  hands. 

"  At  last !  "  he  exclaimed. 

The  woman  made  no  reply.  Her  silence  while  he 
crossed  a  considerable  space  of  carpet,  would  have  been 
embarrassing  to  a  less  accomplished  poseur.  She  was  tall, 
dressed  in  a  gown  of  plain  black  silk,  and  her  brown, 
withered  face  seemed  one  of  those  which  defy  alike  time 


THE    SCENE    CHANGES  8r 

and  its  reckoning.  Her  white  hair  was  drawn  back  from 
her  forehead,  and  tied  in  a  loose  knot  at  the  back  of  her 
head.  Her  mouth  was  cruel.  Her  eyes  were  hard  and 
brilliant.  There  was  not  an  atom  of  softness,  or  of  hu- 
man weakness  of  any  sort,  to  be  traced  in  any  one  of 
her  features.  Around  her  neck  she  wore  a  scarf  of  bril- 
liant red,  the  ends  of  which  were  fastened  with  a  great 
topaz. 

Saton  bent  over  her  affectionately.  He  kissed  her  upon 
the  forehead,  and  remained  with  his  arm  resting  upon 
her  shoulder.  She  did  not  return  his  embrace  in  any 
way. 

"  So  you've  come  back,"  she  said,  speaking  with  a 
sharpness  which  would  have  been  unpleasant  but  for  the 
slight  foreign  accent. 

"  As  you  see,"  he  answered.  "  I  left  this  afternoon, 
and  came  straight  here." 

"  That  woman  Helga  has  been  down  there.  What  did 
she  want?  "  she  demanded. 

Saton  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly,  and  turning 
away,  fetched  a  chair,  which  he  brought  close  to  her  side. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  said  bluntly,  "  that  she  came  to  see 
me." 

The  woman's  eyes  flashed. 

"  Ah!  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Go  on." 

Saton  took  her  hand,  and  held  it  between  his.  It 
was  dry  and  withered,  but  the  nails  were  exquisitely  mani- 
cured, and  the  fingers  were  aflame  with  jewels. 

"  Dear  Rachael,"  he  said,  "  you  must  remember  that 
when  I  was  alone  in  London  waiting  to  hear  from  you, 


82  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

I  naturally  saw  a  good  deal  of  Helga.  She  was  kind  to 
me,  and  she  was  the  means  by  which  your  letters  and 
messages  reached  me.  I  am  afraid,"  he  continued, 
thoughtfully,  "  that  I  was  so  happy,  in  those  days,  to 
have  found  anyone  who  was  kind  and  talked  decently  to 
me,  that  I  may  have  misled  her.  There  has  been  a  little 
trouble  once  or  twice  since.  I  have  tried  to  be  pleasant 
and  friendly  with  her.  She  seems  —  forgive  me  if  it 
sounds  conceited  —  she  seems  to  want  more." 

"  Hussy !  "  the  old  lady  declared.  "  She  shall  go." 

"  Don't  send  her  away,"  he  begged,  replacing  her 
hand  gently  on  her  lap.  "  I  daresay  it  was  entirely  my 
fault." 

The  woman  looked  at  him,  and  a  cruel  smile  parted  her 
lips. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  it  was,"  she  said.  "  You  are  like 
that,  you  know,  Bertrand.  Still,  one  must  have  disci- 
pline. She  asked  for  a  day's  holiday  to  go  into  the 
country  to  see  her  relatives,  and  I  find  her  going  to  see 
you  behind  my  back.  It  cannot  be  permitted." 

"  It  will  not  happen  again,"  he  assured  her.  "  I  feel 
myself  so  much  to  blame." 

"  I  have  no  doubt,"  she  said,  "  that  you  are  entirely  to 
blame,  but  that  is  not  the  question.  Unfortunately,  there 
are  other  things  to  be  considered,  or  she  would  have  been 
sent  packing  before  now.  Tell  me,  Bertrand,  what  kept 
you  down  in  the  country  these  last  few  days  ?  " 

"  I  wanted  a  rest,"  he  answered.  "  I  have  to  read  my 
paper  to-night,  you  know,  and  I  was  tired." 

"  You  have  been  spending  your  time  alone  ?  " 


THE    SCENE    CHANGES  83 

"  No ! "  he  answered,  with  scarcely  a  second's  hesita- 
tion. "  I  have  been  once  or  twice  to  Beauleys." 

"To  see  your  friend  Henry  Rochester,  I  suppose?" 
she  asked. 

Saton's  face  darkened. 

"  No ! "  he  answered.  "  I  would  not  move  a  step  to 
see  him.  I  hate  him,  and  I  think  he  knows  it." 

"  Who  were  the  ladies  of  the  party  ?  "  the  woman 
asked.  "  Their  names  one  by  one,  mind.  Begin  with  the 
eldest." 

"  Lady  Penarvon." 

"  I  know.  Go  on,"  she  said. 

"Mrs.  Hinckley." 

"  Go  on." 

"  Miss  Lois  Champneyes." 

"Young?"  the  woman  asked. 

"  Yes !  " 

"Pretty?" 

"Yes!" 

"A  victim?" 

Saton  frowned. 

"  There  was  also,"  he  continued,  "  my  hostess,  Lady 
Mary  Rochester." 

"  A  silly,  fluffy  little  woman,"  Madame  declared. 
"Did  she  flirt?" 

"  Not  with  me,  at  any  rate,"  Saton  answered. 

"  Too  experienced,"  Madame  remarked.  "  Perhaps 
too  good  a  judge  of  your  sex.  Who  else?  " 

"Lady  Marrabel." 

"  A  very  beautiful  woman,  I  have  heard,"  Madame  re- 


84  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

marked.  "  Also  young,  I  believe.  Also,  I  presume,  a 
victim." 

"  It  is  not  kind  of  you,"  Saton  protested.  "  These 
women  were  staying  in  the  house.  One  has  to  make  one- 
self agreeable  to  them." 

"  Someone  else  was  staying  in  the  house,"  Madame 
continued,  fixing  her  brilliant  eyes  upon  his  face. 
"  Someone  else,  I  see,  died  there." 

"  You  mean  Lord  Guerdon  ?  "  Saton  muttered,  softly. 

"  He  died  there,"  she  said,  nodding.  "  Bertrand,  did 
he  —  did  he  recognise  you?  " 

"  He  would  have  done,"  Saton  said  slowly,  "  if  he 
had  not  died.  He  was  just  beginning  to  remember." 

She  looked  at  him  curiously  for  several  minutes. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  I  ask  no  questions.  Perhaps  it  is 
wiser  not.  But  remember  this,  Bertrand,  I  know  some- 
thing of  the  world,  and  the  men  and  women  who  live  in 
it.  You  are  a  born  deceiver  of  women.  It  is  the  role 
which  nature  meant  you  to  play.  You  can  turn  them, 
if  you  will,  inside  out.  Perhaps  you  think  you  do  the 
same  with  me.  Let  that  go.  And  remember  this.  Have 
as  little  to  do  with  men  as  possible.  Your  very  strength 
with  women  would  be  your  very  weakness  with  men.  Re- 
member, I  have  warned  you." 

"  You  don't  flatter  me,"  he  said,  a  little  unpleasantly. 

"  Bah !  "  she  answered.  "  Why  should  you  and  I  play 
with  words?  We  know  one  another  for  what  we  are. 
Give  me  your  hands." 

He  held  them  out.  She  took  them  suddenly  in  hers  and 
drew  him  towards  her. 


THE    SCENE    CHANGES  85 

"  Kiss  me !  "  she  commanded. 

He  obeyed  at  once.  Then  she  thrust  him  away. 

"  I  go  with  you  to  this  conversazione  to-night,"  she 
said.  "  It  is  well  that  we  should  sometimes  be  seen  to- 
gether. I  shall  let  it  be  known  that  you  are  my  adopted 
son." 

"  That  is  as  you  will,"  he  said,  with  secret  satisfac- 
tion. 

"  Why  not?  "  she  declared.  "  I  never  had  a  son,  but 
I'm  foolish  enough  to  care  for  you  quite  as  much  as  I 
could  for  any  child  of  my  own.  Go  and  get  ready.  We 
dine  at  seven. —  No  !  come  back." 

She  placed  her  long,  clawlike  fingers  upon  his  shoul- 
ders, and  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks.  She  held  him  tightly 
by  the  arms,  as  though  there  was  something  else  she 
would  have  said  —  her  lips  a  little  parted,  her  eyes  bril- 
liant. 

"  Go  and  get  ready,"  she  said  abruptly.  "  Look  your 
prettiest.  You  have  a  chance  to  make  friends  to-night." 


CHAPTER  XI 

A    BUSY    EVENING 

THE  conversazione  was,  in  its  way,  a  brilliant 
gathering.  There  were  present  scientists,  men 
of  letters,  artists,  with  a  very  fair  sprinkling 
of  society  people,  always  anxious  to  absorb  any  new  sen- 
sation. One  saw  there  amongst  the  white-haired  men, 
passing  backwards  and  forwards,  or  talking  together 
in  little  knots,  professors  whose  names  were  famous 
throughout  Europe. 

A  very  great  man  indeed  brought  Saton  up  to  Paul- 
ine with  a  little  word  of  explanation. 

"  I  am  sure,"  he  said  to  her  —  she  was  one  of  his  old- 
est friends  — "  that  you  will  be  glad  to  meet  the  gentle- 
man whose  brilliant  paper  has  interested  us  all  so  much. 
This  is  Lady  Marrabel,  Saton,  whose  father  was  pro- 
fessor at  Oxford  before  your  day." 

The  great  man  passed  on.  Pauline's  first  impulse  had 
been  to  hold  out  her  hand,  but  she  had  immediately  with- 
drawn it.  Saton  contented  himself  with  a  grave  bow. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Lady  Marrabel,"  he  said,  "  that  you 
are  prejudiced  against  me." 

"  I  think  not,"  she  answered.  "  Naturally,  seeing  you 
so  suddenly  brought  into  my  mind  the  terrible  occurrence 
of  only  a  few  days  ago." 

"  An  occurrence,"  he  declared,  "  which  no  one  could 


A    BUSY    EVENING  87 

regret  so  greatly  as  myself.  But  apart  from  that,  Lady 
Marrabel,  I  am  afraid  that  you  are  not  prepared  to  do 
me  justice.  You  look  at  me  through  Rochester's  eyes, 
and  I  am  quite  sure  that  all  his  days  Rochester  will  be- 
lieve that  I  am  more  or  less  of  a  charlatan." 

"  Your  paper  was  very  wonderful,  Mr.  Saton,"  she 
said  slowly.  "  I  am  convinced  that  Mr.  Rochester  would 
have  admitted  that  himself  if  he  had  been  here." 

"  He  might,"  Saton  said.  "  He  might  have  admitted 
that  much,  with  a  supercilious  smile  and  a  little  shrug  of 
the  shoulders.  Rochester  is  a  clever  man,  I  believe,  but 
he  is  absolutely  insular.  There  is  a  belt  of  prejudice 
around  him,  to  the  hardening  of  which  centuries  have 
come  and  gone.  You  are  not,  you  cannot  be  like  that," 
he  continued  with  conviction.  "  There  is  truth  in  these 
things.  I  am  not  an  ignorant  mountebank,  posing  as  a 
Messiah  of  science.  Look  at  the  men  and  women  who 
are  here  to-night.  They  know  a  little.  They  understand 
a  little.  They  are  only  eager  to  see  a  little  further 
through  the  shadows.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  become  a  con- 
vert. I  ask  you  only  to  believe  that  I  speak  of  the  things 
in  which  I  have  faith." 

"  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  do,"  she  answered,  with  a 
marked  access  of  cordiality  in  her  tone.  "  Believe  me,  it 
was  not  from  any  distrust  of  that  sort  that  I  perhaps 
looked  strangely  at  you  when  you  came  up.  You  must 
remember  that  it  is  a  very  short  time  since  our  last  meet- 
ing. One  does  not  often  come  face  to  face  with  a  tragedy 
like  that." 

"  You  are  right,"  he  answered.  "  It  was  awful.  Yet 


88  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

you  saw  how  they  drove  me  on.  I  spoke  what  I  felt  and 
knew.  It  is  not  often  that  those  things  come  to  one,  but 
that  there  was  death  in  the  room  that  night  I  knew  as 
surely  as  I  am  sitting  with  you  here  now.  They  goaded 
me  on  to  speak  of  it.  I  could  not  help  it." 

"  It  was  very  terrible  and  very  wonderful,"  she  said, 
looking  at  him  with  troubled  eyes.  "  They  say  that  Lady 
Mary  is  still  suffering  from  the  shock." 

"  It  might  have  happened  at  any  moment,"  he  re- 
minded her.  "  The  man  had  heart  disease.  He  had  had 
his  warning.  He  knew  very  well  that  the  end  might  come 
at  any  moment." 

"  That  is  true,  I  suppose,"  she  admitted.  "  The  med- 
ical examination  seemed  to  account  easily  enough  for  his 
death.  Yet  there  was  something  uncanny  about  it." 

"  The  party  broke  up  the  next  day,  I  suppose,"  he 
continued.  "  I  have  been  down  in  the  country,  but  I  have 
heard  nothing." 

"  We  left  before  the  funeral,  of  course,"  she  answered. 

"  Fortunately  for  me,"  he  remarked,  "  I  had  im- 
portant things  to  think  of.  I  had  to  prepare  this  paper. 
The  invitation  to  read  it  came  quite  unexpectedly.  I 
have  been  in  London  for  so  short  a  time,  indeed,  that  I 
scarcely  expected  the  honor  of  being  asked  to  take  any 
share  in  a  meeting  so  important  as  this." 

"  I  do  not  see  why  you  should  be  surprised,"  she  said. 
"  You  certainly  seem  to  have  gone  as  far  in  the  study  of 
occultism  as  any  of  those  others." 

He  looked  at  her  thoughtfully. 

"  You    yourself    should    read    a    little    about    these 


A   BUSY    EVENING  89 

things,"  he  said  — "  read  a  little  and  think  a  little.  You 
would  find  very  much  to  interest  you." 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,"  she  answered,  almost  humbly. 
"  Will  you  come  and  see  me  one  day,  and  talk  about  it? 
I  live  at  Number  17,  Cadogan  Street." 

"  I  will  come  with  pleasure,"  he  answered,  rising. 
"  Will  you  forgive  me  if  I  leave  you  now  ?  There  is  a 
man  just  leaving  with  whom  I  must  speak." 

He  passed  away,  and  left  the  room  with  a  little  thrill 
of  satisfaction.  He  had  contrived  to  impress  the  one 
woman  whom  he  was  anxious  to  impress !  Children  like 
little  Lois  Champneyes  and  those  others,  were  easy.  This 
woman  he  knew  at  once  was  something  different.  Besides, 
she  was  a  friend  of  Rochester's,  and  that  meant  some- 
thing to  him. 

He  walked  along  Regent  Street  to  the  end,  and  cross- 
ing the  road,  entered  a  large  cafe.  Here  he  sat  before 
one  of  the  marble-topped  tables,  and  ordered  some  cof- 
fee. In  a  few  minutes  he  was  joined  by  another  man, 
who  handed  his  coat  and  hat  to  the  waiter,  and  sat  down 
with  the  air  of  one  who  was  expected.  Saton  nodded,  a 
little  curtly. 

"  Will  you  take  anything?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  bottle  of  beer  and  a  cigar,"  the  newcomer  or- 
dered. "  A  shilling  cigar,  I  think,  to-night.  It  will  run 
to  it." 

"  Anything  special?  "  Saton  asked. 

"  Things  in  general  are  about  the  same  as  usual,"  his 
companion  answered.  "  They  did  a  little  better  in  Ox- 
ford Street  and  Regent  Street,  but  Violet  had  a  dull 


go  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

day  in  Bond  Street.  I  have  closed  up  the  Egyptian 
place  in  the  Arcade  — '  Ayesha  '  we  called  it.  The  police 
are  always  suspicious  of  a  woman's  name,  and  I  had  a 
hint  from  a  detective  I  know." 

Saton  nodded. 

"  You  have  something  else  to  tell  me,  haven't  you?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Yes ! "  the  other  answered.  "  We  had  a  very  im- 
portant client  in  Bond  Street  this  afternoon,  one  of 
those  whose  names  you  gave  me." 

Saton  leaned  across  the  table. 

"  Who  was  it?  "  he  asked. 

"  Lady  Mary  Rochester  of  Beauleys,"  the  other  an- 
swered — "  got  a  town  house,  and  a  big  country  place 
down  in  Mechestershire." 

Something  flashed  for  a  moment  in  Saton's  eyes,  but 
he  said  nothing.  His  companion  commenced  to  draw 
leisurely  a  sheet  of  paper  from  his  breast  coat  pocket. 
He  was  fair  and  middle-aged,  respectably  dressed,  and 
with  the  air  of  a  prosperous  city  merchant.  His  eyes 
were  a  little  small,  and  his  cheeks  inclined  to  be  fat,  or 
he  would  have  been  reasonably  good-looking. 

"  Lady  Mary  called  without  giving  her  name,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  but  we  knew  her,  of  course,  by  our  picture  gal- 
lery. She  called  professedly  to  amuse  herself.  She  was 
told  the  usual  sorts  of  things,  with  a  few  additions 
thrown  in  from  our  knowledge  of  her.  She  seemed  very 
much  impressed,  and  in  the  end  she  came  to  a  specific 
inquiry." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Saton. 


A    BUSY    EVENING  91 

"  The  specific  inquiry  was  briefly  this,"  the  man  con- 
tinued. "  She  gave  herself  away  the  moment  she  opened 
her  mouth.  She  behaved,  in  fact,  like  a  farmer's  daugh- 
ter asking  questions  of  a  gipsy  girl.  She  showed  us  the 
photograph  of  a  man,  whom  we  also  recognised,  and 
wanted  to  know  the  usual  sort  of  rubbish  —  whether  he 
was  really  fond  of  her,  whether  he  would  be  true  to  her 
if  she  married  him." 

"  Married  him?"  Saton  repeated. 

"  She  posed  as  a  widow,"  the  other  man  reminded  him. 

"  What  was  the  reply?  " 

"  Violet  was  clever,"  the  man  remarked,  with  a  slow 
smile.  "  She  saw  at  once  that  this  was  a  case  where  some- 
thing might  be  done.  She  asked  for  three  days,  and  for  a 
letter  from  the  man.  She  said  that  it  was  a  case  in  which 
a  sight  of  his  handwriting,  and  a  close  study  of  it,  would 
help  them  to  give  an  absolutely  truthful  answer." 

"  She  agreed?  "  Saton  asked. 

The  other  nodded,  and  produced  a  letter  from  his 
pocket. 

"  She  handed  one  over  at  once,"  he  said.  "  It  isn't 
particularly  compromising,  perhaps,  but  it's  full  of  the 
usual  sort  of  rot.  She's  coming  for  it  on  Tuesday." 

Saton  smiled  as  he  thrust  it  into  his  pocketbook. 

"  I  will  put  this  into  Dorrington's  hands  at  once,"  he 
said.  "  This  has  been  very  well  managed,  Huntley.  I  will 
have  a  liqueur,  and  you  shall  have  some  more  beer." 

"  Don't  mind  if  I  do,"  Mr.  Huntley  assented  cheer- 
fully. "  It's  thirsty  weather." 

They  summoned  a  waiter,  and  Saton  lit  a  cigarette. 


92  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

"  You've  been  amongst  the  big  pots  to-night,"  Hunt- 
ley  remarked,  looking  at  him. 

Saton  nodded. 

"  I  have  been  keeping  our  end  up,"  he  said,  "  in  the 
legitimate  branch  of  our  profession.  You  needn't  grin 
like  that,"  he  added,  a  little  irritably.  "  There  is  a  legiti- 
mate side,  and  a  very  wonderful  side,  only  a  brain  like 
yours  is  not  capable  of  assimilating  it.  You  should  have 
heard  my  paper  to-night  upon  self-directed  mesmeric 
waves." 

The  man  shook  his  head,  and  laughed  complacently. 

"  It's  not  in  my  way,"  he  answered.  "  Our  business  is 
good  enough  as  it  is." 

"  You  are  a  fool,"  Saton  said,  a  little  contemptuously. 
"  You  can't  see  that  but  for  the  legitimate  side  there 
would  be  no  business  at  all.  Unless  there  was  a  glimmer 
of  truth  at  the  bottom  of  the  well,  unless  there  existed 
somewhere  a  prototype,  Madame  Helga,  and  Omega,  and 
Naomi  might  sit  in  their  empty  temples  from  morning 
till  night.  People  know,  or  are  beginning  to  know,  that 
there  are  forces  abroad  beyond  the  control  of  the  ordi- 
nary commonplace  mortal.  They  are  willing  to  take  it 
for  granted  that  those  who  declare  themselves  able  to  do 
so,  are  able  to  govern  them." 

He  broke  off  a  little  abruptly.  Huntley's  unsympa- 
thetic face,  with  the  big  cigar  in.  the  corner  of  his  mouth, 
choked  the  flow  of  his  words. 

"  Never  mind,"  he  said.  "  This  isn't  interesting  to 
you,  of  course.  As  you  say,  the  business  side  is  the  more 
important.  I  will  see  you  at  the  hotel  to-morrow  night. 


A   BUSY    EVENING  93 

Considering  where  I  have  been  this  evening,  it  is  scarcely 
wise  for  us  to  be  seen  together." 

Huntley  took  the  hint,  finished  his  drink,  and  departed. 
Saton  sat  for  a  few  more  minutes  alone.  Then  he  too 
went  out  into  the  street,  and  walked  slowly  homewards. 
He  let  himself  into  the  house  in  Regent's  Park  with  his 
latchkey,  and  went  thoughtfully  upstairs.  The  room  was 
still  brilliantly  illuminated,  and  the  woman  who  was  sit- 
ting over  the  fire,  turned  round  to  greet  him. 

"Well?  "she  asked. 

Saton  divested  himself  of  his  hat  and  coat.  Madame's 
black  eyes  were  still  fixed  upon  him.  He  came  slowly 
across  towards  her. 

"  Well?  "  she  repeated. 

"  You  were  there,"  he  reminded  her.  "  I  saw  you  sit- 
ting almost  in  the  front  row.  What  did  you  think  of 
it?  " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  What  does  it  matter  what  I  think  of  it  ?  Tell  me 
about  the  others." 

"  My  paper  was  pronounced  everywhere  to  be  a  great 
success,"  he  declared.  "  Many  of  the  cleverest  men  in 
London  were  there.  They  listened  to  every  syllable." 

Madame  nodded. 

"  Why  trouble  to  teach  them  ?  "  she  asked,  a  little 
scornfully.  "What  of  Huntley?  Have  you  seen  him? 
How  have  they  done  to-day?  " 

"  It  goes  well,"  he  answered.  "  It  always  goes  well." 

She  moved  her  head  slowly. 

"  Yet  to-night  you  are  not  thinking  of  it,"  she  said. 


94  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  For  many  nights  you  have  not  counted  your  earnings. 
You  are  thinking  of  other  things,"  she  declared  harshly. 
"  Don't  look  away  from  me.  Look  into  my  eyes." 

"  It  is  true,"  he  answered.  "  To-night  I  have  been 
with  clever  men.  I  have  measured  my  wits  against  theirs. 
I  have  pushed  into  their  consciousness  things  which  they 
were  unwilling  to  believe.  I  have  made  them  believe.  There 
were  many  people  there  who  felt,  I  believe,  for  the  first 
time,  that  they  were  ignorant." 

The  woman  looked  at  him  scornfully.  There  was  no 
softening  in  her  face,  and  yet  she  had  taken  his  hand  in 
hers  and  held  it. 

"What  do  we  gain  by  that?"  she  asked  harshly. 
"  What  we  want  is  gold,  gold  all  the  time.  You  ought  to 
know  that,  you,  who  have  been  so  near  to  starvation.  Are 
you  a  fool  that  you  don't  realize  it  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  a  fool,"  Saton  answered  calmly,  "  but  there 
is  another  side  to  the  whole  matter.  A  meeting  such  as 
to-night's  gives  an  immense  fillip  on  the  part  of  society 
to  what  they  are  pleased  to  call  the  supernatural.  It  is 
only  the  fear  of  ridicule  which  keeps  half  the  people  in 
the  world  from  flooding  our  branches,  every  one  of  them 
eager  to  have  their  fortunes  told.  A  night  like  to-night 
is  a  great  help.  Clever  men,  men  who  are  believed  in,  have 
accepted  the  principle  that  there  are  laws  which  govern 
the  future  so  surely  as  the  past  in  its  turn  has  been  gov- 
erned. One  needs  only  to  apprehend  those  laws,  to  reduce 
them  to  intelligible  formulae.  It  is  an  exact  study,  an  ex- 
act science.  This  is  the  doctrine  which  I  have  preached. 
When  people  once  believe  it,  what  is  to  keep  them  from 


A    BUSY    EVENING  95 

coming  in  their  thousands  to  those  who  know  more  than 
they  do?" 

The  woman  shook  her  head  derisively. 

"  No  need  to  wait  for  those  days,"  she  answered. 
"  The  world  is  packed  full  of  fools  now.  No  need  to 
wrestle  with  nature,  to  wear  oneself  inside  out  to  give 
them  truth.  Give  them  any  rubbish.  Give  them  what  they 
seem  to  want.  It  is  enough  so  long  as  they  bring  the 
gold.  How  much  was  taken  to-day  altogether  ?  " 

Saton  passed  on  to  her  the  papers  which  the  man 
Huntley  had  given  him  in  the  cafe. 

"  There  is  the  account,"  he  said.  "  You  see  it  grows 
larger  every  day." 

"  What  becomes  of  the  money?  "  she  asked. 

"  It  is  paid  into  the  bank,  and  the  banker's  receipt 
comes  to  me  each  morning.  There  is  no  chance  for  fraud. 
I  must  make  some  more  investments  soon.  Our  balance 
grows  and  grows." 

The  woman's  eyes  glittered. 

"  Bring  me  some  money  to-morrow,"  she  begged, 
grasping  his  other  hand.  "  I  like  to  have  it  here  in  my 
hands.  Money  and  you,  Bertrand,  my  son  —  they  are  all 
I  care  for.  Banks  and  investments  are  well  enough.  I 
like  money.  Kiss  me,  Bertrand." 

He  laughed  tolerantly,  and  kissed  her  cheek. 

"  My  dear  Rachael,"  he  said,  "  you  have  already  bags- 
ful  of  gold  about  the  place." 

"  They  are  safe,"  she  assured  him,  "  absolutely  safe. 
They  never  leave  my  person.  I  feel  them  as  I  sit.  I  sleep 
with  them  at  night.  I  am  going  to  bed  now.  Bertrand !  " 


g6  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"Well?  "he  asked. 

She  pointed  to  him  with  long  forefinger,  a  forefinger 
aflame  with  jewels. 

"  Look !  We  play  with  no  fortune-telling  here.  What 
is  there  in  your  face?  What  is  there  in  your  life  you  are 
not  telling  me  of  ?  Is  it  a  woman  ?  " 

"  There  are  many  women  in  my  life,"  he  answered. 
"  You  know  that." 

"  I  do,"  she  answered.  "  Poor  fools !  Play  with  them 
all  you  will,  but  remember  —  the  one  whom  you  choose 
must  have  gold !  " 

He  nodded. 

"  I  am  not  likely  to  forget,"  he  said. 

She  left  the  room  with  a  farewell  caress.  There  was 
something  almost  tigress-like  about  the  way  in  which  her 
arms  wound  themselves  around  him  —  some  gleam  of  the 
terrified  victim  in  his  eyes,  as  he  felt  her  touch.  Then  she 
left  the  room.  Saton  sank  back  into  an  easy-chair,  and 
gazed  steadfastly  into  the  fire  through  half -closed  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A    CALL    ON    LADY    MARRABEL 

SATON,  after  the  reading  of  his  paper  before  the 
members  of  the  London  Psychical  Society,  estab- 
lished a  certain  vogue  of  which  he  was  not  slow  to 
avail  himself.  His  picture  appeared  in  several  illustrated 
papers.  His  name  was  freely  mentioned  as  being  one  of 
the  most  brilliant  apostles  of  the  younger  school  of  oc- 
cultism. He  subscribed  to  a  newspaper  cutting  agency, 
and  he  read  every  word  that  was  written  about  himself. 
Whenever  he  got  a  chance,  he  made  friends  with  the 
press.  Everything  that  he  could  possibly  do  to  obtain  a 
certain  position  in  a  certain  place,  he  sedulously  at- 
tempted. He  was  always  carefully  dressed,  and  he  was 
quite  conscious  of  the  fact  that  his  clothes  were  of  cor- 
rect pattern  and  cut.  His  ties  were  properly  subdued  in 
tone.  His  gloves  and  hat  were  immaculate. 

Yet  all  the  time  he  lacked  confidence  in  himself.  The 
word  charlatan  clung  to  him  like  a  pestilential  memory. 
His  hair  was  cropped  close  to  his  head.  He  had  shaved 
off  his  moustache.  He  imitated  almost  slavishly  the  at- 
tire and  bearing  of  those  young  men  of  fashion  with 
whom  he  was  brought  into  contact.  Yet  he  was  somehow 
conscious  of  a  difference.  The  women  seemed  never  to 
notice  it  —  the  men  always.  Was  it  jealousy,  he  won- 


98  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

dered,  which  made  them,  even  the  most  unintelligent, 
treat  him  with  a  certain  tolerance,  as  though  he  were 
a  person  not  quite  of  themselves,  whom  they  scarcely 
understood,  but  were  willing  to  make  the  best  of? 

With  women  it  was  different  always.  His  encounter 
with  Pauline  Marrabel  at  the  conversazione  had  given 
him  the  keenest  pleasure.  He  had  at  once  fixed  a  day 
sometime  ahead  upon  which  he  would  take  to  her  the 
books  he  had  spoken  of.  The  day  had  arrived  at  last, 
but  he  had  first  another  engagement.  Early  in  the  after- 
noon he  turned  into  Kensington  Gardens,  and  walked  up 
and  down  the  broad  path,  glancing  every  now  and  then 
toward  one  of  the  entrances.  He  saw  at  last  the  person 
for  whom  he  was  waiting. 

Lois,  in  a  plain  white  muslin  gown,  and  a  big  hat  gay 
with  flowers,  came  blithely  towards  him,  a  little  Pome- 
ranian under  one  arm,  and  a  parasol  in  the  other  hand. 

"  I  do  hope  I'm  not  too  dreadfully  late ! "  she  ex- 
claimed, setting  the  dog  down,  and  taking  his  hand  a  lit- 
tle shyly.  "  It  seems  such  an  age  since  I  saw  you  last. 
Where  can  we  go  and  talk  ?  " 

"  You  are  not  frightened  at  me  any  more,  then  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,"  she  answered.  "  We  spoke  about 
that  at  Beauleys.  I  do  not  want  to  think  any  more  of 
that  evening.  It  is  over  and  done  with.  What  a  clever 
person  you  are  becoming !  "  she  went  on.  "  I  saw  your 
name  one  day  last  week  in  the  Morning  Post.  You  read 
a  paper  before  no  end  of  clever  men.  And  do  you  know 
that  your  photograph  is  in  two  or  three  of  the  illus- 
trated papers  this  week?  " 


A    CALL    ON   LADY    MARRABEL       99 

His  cheeks  flushed  with  pleasure.  He  was  unreason- 
ably glad  that  she  appreciated  these  things.  His  vanity, 
which  had  been  a  trifle  ruffled  by  some  incident  earlier  in 
the  day,  was  effectually  soothed. 

"  These  things,"  he  said,  "  are  absolutely  valueless  to 
me  except  so  far  as  they  testify  to  the  importance  of 
my  work.  Before  long,"  he  went  on,  "  I  think  that  there 
will  be  many  other  people  like  you,  Miss  Lois.  They  will 
believe  that  there  is  a  little  more  in  life  than  their  dull 
eyes  can  see.  You  were  one  of  those  who  understood 
from  the  first.  But  there  are  not  many." 

She  sighed. 

"  I  don't  think  I  am  a  bit  clever,"  she  admitted. 

"  Cleverness,"  he  answered,  "  is  not  a  matter  of  erudi- 
tion. It  is  a  matter  of  instinct,  of  capacity  for  grasping 
new  truths.  You  have  that  capacity,  dear  Lois,  and  I 
am  glad  that  you  are  here.  It  is  good  to  be  with  you 
again." 

"  You  really  are  the  most  wonderful  person,"  she  de- 
clared, poking  at  her  little  dog  with  the  end  of  her  fluffy 
parasol.  "  You  make  me  feel  as  though  I  were  something 
quite  important,  and  you  know  I  am  really  a  very  un- 
formed, very  unintelligent  young  person.  That  is  what 
my  last  governess  said." 

"  Cat ! "  he  answered  laughing.  "  I  can  see  her  now. 
She  wore  a  pince-nez  and  a  bicycling  skirt.  I  am  sure  of 
it.  Come  and  sit  down  here,  and  I  will  prove  to  you  how 
much  cleverer  I  am  than  that  ancient  relic." 

They  parted  at  the  gates,  an  hour  or  so  later.  Saton 
resented  a  little  her  evident  desire  to  leave  him  there,  and 


ioo  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

her  half  frightened  refusal  of  his  invitation  to  lunch, 
but  he  consoled  himself  by  taking  his  mid-day  meal  alone 
at  Prince's,  where  several  people  pointed  him  out  to  oth- 
ers, and  he  was  aware  that  he  was  the  object  of  a  good 
deal  of  respectful  interest. 

Later  in  the  day,  with  several  books  under  his  arm,  he 
rang  the  bell  at  17,  Cadogan  Street.  He  was  committed 
now  to  the  enterprise,  which  had  never  been  out  of  his 
thoughts  since  the  night  of  the  conversazione. 

Pauline  kept  him  waiting  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.  When  at  last  she  entered,  he  found  himself  lost  in 
admiration  of  the  marvelous  simplicity  of  her  muslin 
gown  and  her  perfect  figure.  There  was  about  her  some 
sort  of  exquisite  perfection,  a  delicacy  of  outline  and  de- 
tail almost  cameolike,  and  impossible  of  reproduction. 

She  welcomed  him  kindly,  but  without  any  enthusiasm. 
He  felt  from  the  first  that  he  still  had  prejudices  to  con- 
quer. He  sat  down  by  her  side  and  commenced  his  task. 
Very  wisely,  he  eliminated  altogether  the  personal  note 
from  his  talk.  He  showed  her  the  books  which  he  had 
brought,  and  he  talked  of  them  fluently  and  well.  She 
became  more  and  more  interested.  It  was  scarcely  pos- 
sible that  she  could  refrain  from  showing  it,  for  he  spoke 
of  the  things  which  he  knew,  and  things  which  the  citi- 
zens of  the  world  in  every  age  have  found  fascinating. 
He  seemed  to  her  to  have  gone  a  little  further  into  the 
great  mysterious  shadowland  than  anyone  else  —  to  have 
come  a  little  nearer  reading  the  great  riddle.  She  was  a 
good  listener,  and  she  interrupted  him  only  once. 

"  But  tell  me  this,"  she  asked,  towards  the  close  of  one 


A    CALL   ON   LADY    MARRABEL     101 

of  his  arguments.  "  This  apprehension  which  you  say 
one  must  cultivate,  to  be  able  —  how  is  it  you  put  it  ?  — 
to  throw  out  feelers  for  the  things  which  our  ordinary 
senses  cannot  grasp  —  isn't  it  a  matter  largely  of  tem- 
perament? " 

"  One  finds  it  difficult  or  easy  to  acquire,"  he  answered, 
"  according  to  one's  temperament.  A  nervous,  magnetic 
person,  who  is  not  afraid  of  solitude,  of  solitary  thought, 
of  taking  the  truth  to  his  heart  and  wrestling  with  it  — 
that  person  is,  of  course,  always  nearer  the  truth  than 
the  person  of  phlegmatic  temperament,  who  has  to  strug- 
gle ever  so  hard  to  be  conscious  of  anything  not  actually 
within  the  sphere  of  his  physical  apprehension.  These 
things  in  our  generation  will  have  a  great  effect.  In  cen- 
turies to  come,  they  will  become  less  and  less  apparent. 
We  move  rapidly,"  he  went  on,  "  and  I  am  still  a  young 
man.  Before  I  die,  it  is  my  ambition  to  leave  behind  me 
the  first  text-book  on  this  new  science,  the  first  real  and 
logical  attempt  to  enunciate  absolute  laws." 

"  It  is  all  very  wonderful,"  she  said,  sighing  gently. 
"  Do  you  think  that  I  shall  understand  any  more  about 
it  when  I  have  read  these  books  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  that  you  will,"  he  answered.  "  You  have 
intelligence.  You  have  sensibility.  You  are  not  afraid 
to  believe  •. —  that  is  the  trouble  with  most  people." 

"  Answer  me  one  question,"  she  begged.  "  All  these 
fortune-telling  people  who  have  sprung  up  round  Bond 
Street  —  I  mean  the  palmists  and  crystal-gazers,  and 
people  like  that  —  do  they  proceed  upon  any  knowledge 
whatever,  or  are  they  all  absolute  humbugs  ?  " 


102  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

"  To  the  best  of  my  belief,"  he  answered  fervently, 
"  every  one  of  them.  Personally,  I  haven't  very  much  in- 
formation, but  it  has  not  come  under  my  notice  that 
there  is  a  single  one  of  these  people  who  even  attempts  to 
probe  the  future  scientifically  or  even  intelligently,  ac- 
cording to  the  demands  made  upon  them.  They  impose 
as  much  as  they  can  upon  the  credulity  of  their  clients. 
I  consider  that  their  existence  is  absolutely  the  worst 
possible  thing  for  us  who  are  endeavouring  to  gain  a 
foothold  in  the  scientific  world.  Your  friend  Mr.  Roches- 
ter, you  know,  called  me  a  charlatan." 

"  Mr.  Rochester  is  never  unjust,"  she  answered 
quietly.  "  Some  day,  perhaps,  he  will  take  that  word 
back." 

He  tried  to  give  their  conversation  a  more  personal 
note,  but  he  found  her  elusive.  She  accepted  an  invita- 
tion, however,  to  be  present  at  a  lecture  which  he  was 
giving  before  another  learned  society  during  the  follow- 
ing week.  With  that  he  felt  that  he  ought  to  be  con- 
tent. Nevertheless,  he  left  her  a  little  dissatisfied.  He 
was  perfectly  well  aware  that  the  magnetism  which  he 
was  usually  able  to  exert  over  her  sex  had  so  far  availed 
him  nothing  with  her.  Her  eyes  met  his  freely,  but  with- 
out any  response  to  the  things  which  he  was  striving  to 
express.  She  had  seemed  interested  all  the  time,  but  she 
had  dismissed  him  without  regret.  He  walked  homewards 
a  little  thoughtf uDy.  If  only  she  were  a  little  like  Lois ! 

As  he  passed  the  entrance  to  the  Park,  an  electric 
brougham  was  suddenly  pulled  up,  and  a  lady  leaned 
forward  towards  him.  He  stepped  up  to  her  side,  hat  in 


A    CALL    ON    LADY    MARRABEL     103 

hand.  It  was  Lady  Mary  Rochester.  She  was  exquisitely 
gowned  and  hatted,  Avith  a  great  white  veil  which  floated 
gracefully  around  her  picture-hat,  and  she  welcomed  him 
with  a  brilliant  smile. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Saton,"  she  exclaimed,  "  what  a  fortu- 
nate meeting !  Only  a  few  minutes  ago  I  was  thinking  of 

you." 

"  I  am  very  much  flattered,"  he  answered. 

"  I  mean  it,"  she  declared.  "  I  wonder  whether  you 
could  spare  me  a  few  minutes.  I  don't  mean  here,"  she 
added.  "  One  can  scarcely  talk,  driving.  Come  in  after 
dinner,  if  you  have  nothing  to  do,  just  for  half-an-hour. 
My  husband  is  down  in  the  country,  and  I  am  not  going 
out  until  eleven." 

"  I  shall  be  very  pleased,"  he  answered,  a  little  me- 
chanically, for  he  found  the  situation  not  altogether  an 
easy  one  to  grasp. 

"  Don't  forget,"  she  said.  "  Number  10,  Berkeley 
Square,"  with  a  look  of  relief. 

The  electric  brougham  rolled  on,  and  Saton  crossed 
the  road  thoughtfully.  Then  a  sudden  smile  lightened 
his  features.  He  realized  all  at  once  what  it  was  that 
Lady  Mary  wanted  from  him. 

Rachael  was  waiting  for  him  when  he  returned.  She 
was  seated  before  the  table,  her  head  resting  upon  her 
hands,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  little  piles  of  gold  and 
notes  which  she  had  arranged  in  front  of  her.  She 
watched  him  come  in  and  take  off  his  hat  and  coat,  in 
silence. 


io4  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

"  Well?  "  she  asked.  "  How  do  things  go  to-day?  " 

"  I  have  not  the  reports  yet,"  he  answered.  "  It  is  too 
early.  I  shall  have  them  later." 

"  What  have  you  been  doing?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  walked  with  a  girl,  Lois  Champneyes,  in  Kensing- 
ton Gardens  most  of  the  morning,  and  I  called  upon  a 
woman  —  Lady  Marrabel  —  this  afternoon,"  he  an- 
swered. 

Rachael  nodded. 

"  Safe  companions  for  you,"  she  muttered.  "  Remem- 
ber what  I  always  tell  you.  You  are  of  the  breed  that  can 
make  fools  of  women.  A  man  might  find  you  out." 

He  turned  an  angry  face  upon  her. 

"  What  is  there  to  find  out  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  I  am 
not  an  impostor.  I  am  a  man  of  science.  I  have  proved 
it.  Your  fortune-telling  temples  are  all  very  well,  and 
the  money  they  bring  is  welcome  enough.  But  neverthe- 
less, I  am  not  the  vulgar  adventurer  that  you  sometimes 
suggest." 

The  woman  laughed,  laughed  silently  and  yet  heart- 
ily, but  she  never  spoke.  She  looked  away  from  him  pres- 
ently, and  drawing  the  pile  of  gold  and  notes  nearer  to 
her,  began  to  recount  them  with  her  left  hand.  Her  right 
she  held  out  to  him,  slowly  drawing  him  towards  her. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

LADY  MARY'S  DILEMMA 

LADY  MARY'S  boudoir  was  certainly  the  most 
luxurious  apartment  of  its  sort  into  which 
Saton  had  ever  been  admitted.  There  were  great 
bowls  of  red  roses  upon  the  small  ormolu  table  and  on 
the  mantelpiece.  Several  exquisite  etchings  hung  upon 
the  lavender  walls.  The  furniture  was  all  French.  Every 
available  space  seemed  occupied  with  costly  knick-knacks 
and  curios.  Photographs  of  beautiful  women,  men  in 
court  dress  and  uniform,  nearly  all  of  them  signed,  were 
scattered  about  on  every  available  inch  of  space,  and 
there  was  also  that  subtle  air  of  femininity  about  the 
apartment,  to  which  he  was  unaccustomed,  and  which 
went  to  his  head  like  wine.  It  was  evident  that  only  priv- 
ileged visitors  were  received  there,  for  apart  from  the  air 
of  intimacy  which  seemed  somehow  to  pervade  the  place, 
there  were  several  articles  of  apparel,  and  a  pair  of  slip- 
pers lying  upon  the  hearthrug. 

Lady  Mary  herself  came  rustling  in  to  him  a  few  min- 
utes after  his  arrival,  gorgeous  in  a  wonderful  shimmer- 
ing gown,  which  seemed  to  hang  straight  from  her  shoul- 
ders —  the  very  latest  creation  in  the  way  of  tea-gowns. 

"  I  know  you  will  forgive  my  receiving  you  like  this," 
she  said,  holding  out  her  hand.  "  To  tell  you  the  truth, 


106  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

I  dined  here  absolutely  alone,  and  I  thought  that  I  would 
not  dress  till  afterwards.  I  am  going  on  to  the  ball  at 
Huntingford  House,  and  it  is  always  less  trouble  to  go 
straight  from  one's  maid.  You  have  had  coffee?  Yes? 
Then  sit  down  at  the  end  of  this  couch,  please,  and  tell 
me  whether  you  think  you  can  help  me." 

Saton  was  not  altogether  at  his  ease.  The  brilliancy 
of  his  surroundings,  the  easy  charm  of  the  woman,  were 
a  little  disconcerting.  And  she  was  Rochester's  wife,  the 
wife  of  the  man  whom  he  hated!  That  in  itself  was  a 
thing  to  be  always  kept  in  mind.  Never  before  had  she 
seemed  so  desirable. 

"  If  you  will  tell  me  in  wliat  way  I  can  be  of  service, 
Lady  Mary,"  he  began 

She  turned  towards  him  pathetically. 

"  Really,"  she  said,  "  I  scarcely  know  why  I  asked 
for  your  help,  except  that  you  seem  to  me  so  much  clev- 
erer than  most  of  the  men  I  know." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  over-rate  my  abilities,"  he  said, 
with  a  slight  deprecating  smile.  "  But  at  any  rate,  please 
be  sure  of  one  thing.  You  could  not  have  asked  the  ad- 
vice of  anyone  more  anxious  to  serve  you." 

"  How  kind  you  are ! "  she  murmured.  "  I  am  going 
to  make  a  confession,  and  you  will  see,  after  all,  that 
the  trouble  I  am  in  has  something  to  do  with  you.  You 
remember  that  night  at  Beauleys  ?  " 

"  Yes !  "  he  answered. 

"  We  won't  talk  about  it,"  she  continued.  "  We 
mustn't  talk  about  it.  Only  it  gave  me  foolish  thoughts. 
From  being  utterly  incredulous  or  indifferent,  I  went  to 


LADY    MARY'S    DILEMMA  107 

the  other  extreme.  I  became,  I  suppose,  absolutely  fool- 
ish. I  went  to  one  of  those  stupid  women  in  Bond 
Street." 

"  You  went  to  have  your  fortune  told?  "  he  asked. 

She  nodded. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  so !  "  she  said.  "  I  asked  her  a  lot  of 
things,  and  she  looked  into  a  crystal  globe  and  told  me 
what  she  saw.  It  was  quite  interesting,  but  unfortu- 
nately I  went  a  little  further  than  I  meant  to.  I  asked 
her  some  ridiculous  questions  about  —  a  friend  of 
mine." 

He  smiled  sympathetically. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  this  all  seems  rather  like  a  waste  of 
time,  but  I  scarcely  see  how  it  would  be  likely  to  land  you 
in  a  difficulty." 

"  But  it  has,"  she  answered.  "  That  is  what  I  want  to 
explain  to  you.  The  woman  insisted  upon  having  a  letter 
in  the  handwriting  of  the  person  I  asked  questions  about, 
and  I  foolishly  gave  her  one  that  was  in  my  pocket. 
When  I  asked  for  it  back  again,  the  day  afterwards,  she 
said  she  had  mislaid  it." 

"  But  was  the  letter  of  any  importance  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  There  wasn't  much  in  it,  of  course,"  she  answered, 
"  but  it  was  a  private  letter." 

"  It  is  infamous  !  "  he  declared.  "  I  should  give  infor- 
mation to  the  police  at  once." 

She  held  out  her  hands  —  tiny  little  white  hands,  ring- 
less  and  soft. 

"  My  dear  man,"  she  exclaimed,  "  how  can  I?  Give  in- 
formation to  the  police,  indeed  I  What,  go  and  admit  be- 


io8  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

fore  a  magistrate  that  I  had  been  to  a  fortune-teller, 
especially,"  she  added,  looking  down,  "  on  such  an  er- 
rand? " 

He  drew  a  little  nearer  to  her. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  answered.  "  I  was  thought- 
less. That,  of  course,  is  not  possible.  Tell  me  the  name 
and  the  address  of  the  person  to  whom  you  went." 

"  The  woman's  name  was  Helga,"  she  answered,  "  and 
it  was  in  the  upper  end  of  Bond  Street.  Daisy  Knowles 
told  me  about  the  place.  Heaps  of  people  I  know  have 
been." 

"  And  the  letter?  "  he  asked.  "  Tell  me,  if  you  can, 
what  is  its  precise  significance?  " 

"  It  was  a  letter  from  Charlie  Peyton,"  she  answered 
— "  Major  Peyton,  in  the  Guards,  you  know.  There 
wasn't  anything  in  it  that  mattered  really,  but  I  shall 
not  have  a  moment's  peace  until  it  is  returned  to  me." 

"  Have  you  told  me  everything?  "  he  asked. 

"  No  !  "  she  admitted. 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well,"  he  murmured. 

She  produced  a  letter  from  the  bosom  of  her  gown. 

"  I  received  this  last  night,"  she  said. 

He  glanced  it  rapidly  through.  The  form  of  it  was 
well-known  to  him. 
"  Dear  Madam, 

"  A  letter  addressed  to  you,  and  in  the  handwriting 
of  a  certain  Major  Charles  Peyton,  has  come  into  our 
hands  within  the  last  few  hours.  It  is  dated  from  the 
Army  and  Navy  Club,  and  its  postmark  is  June  1st.  The 
contents  are  probably  well-known  to  you. 


LADY    MARY'S    DILEMMA  109 

"  It  is  our  wish  to  return  same  into  your  hands  at  once, 
but  we  may  say  that  it  was  handed  to  us  in  trust  by  a 
gentleman  who  is  indebted  to  us  for  a  considerable  sum 
of  money,  and  he  spoke  of  this  document,  which  we  did 
not  inspect  at  the  time,  as  being  a  probable  form  of 
security. 

"  Perhaps  your  ladyship  can  suggest  some  means  by 
which  we  might  be  able  to  hand  over  the  letter  to  you 
without  breaking  faith  with  our  friend. 
"  Sincerely  yours, 

"  Jacobson  <§*  Co. —  Agents. 

"  17,  Charing  Cross  Road." 

"  A  distinct  attempt  at  blackmail !  "  Saton  exclaimed, 
indignantly. 

"Isn't  it  wicked?"  Lady  Mary  replied,  looking  at 
him  appealingly.  "  But  how  am  I  to  deal  with  it?  What 
am  I  to  do?  I  don't  wish  to  correspond  with  these  peo- 
ple, and  I  daren't  tell  Henry  a  thing  about  it." 

"  Naturally,"  he  answered.  "  My  dear  Lady  Mary, 
there  are  two  courses  open  to  you.  First,  you  can  take 
this  letter  to  the  police,  when  you  will  get  your  own  let- 
ter back  without  paying  a  penny,  and  these  rascals  will 
be  prosecuted.  The  only  disadvantage  attached  to  this 
course  is  that  your  name  will  appear  in  the  papers,  and 
the  letter  will  be  made  public." 

"  You  must  see,"  she  declared,  "  that  that  is  an  abso- 
lute impossibility.  My  husband  would  be  furious  with 
me,  and  so  would  Major  Peyton.  Please  suggest  some- 
thing else." 

"  Then,  on  the  other  hand,"  he  continued,  "  the  only 


no  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

alternative  course  is  to  make  the  best  bargain  you  can 
with  the  scoundrels  who  are  responsible  for  this." 

"  But  how  can  I  ?  "  she  asked  plaintively.  "  I  cannot 
go  to  see  these  people,  nor  can  I  have  them  come  here. 
I  don't  know  how  much  money  they  want.  You  know  I 
haven't  a  penny  of  my  own,  and  although  my  husband 
is  generous  enough,  he  likes  to  know  what  I  want  money 
for.  I  have  spent  my  allowance  for  the  whole  of  the  year 
already.  I  believe  I  am  even  in  debt." 

Saton  hesitated  for  several  moments.  Lady  Mary 
watched  him  all  the  time  anxiously. 

"  If  you  will  allow  me,"  he  said,  "  I  will  take  this  let- 
ter away  with  me,  and  see  these  people  on  your  behalf. 
I  have  no  doubt  that  I  can  make  much  better  terms  with 
them  than  you  could." 

She  drew  a  little  sigh  of  relief. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  was  hoping  you  would  pro- 
pose," she  declared,  handing  it  over  to  him.  "  It  is  so 
good  of  you,  Mr.  Saton.  I  feel  there  are  so  few  people 
I  could  trust  in  a  matter  like  this.  You  will  be  very  care- 
ful, won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  will  be  very  careful,"  he  answered. 

"  And  when  you  have  the  letter,"  she  continued,  "  you 
will  bring  it  straight  back  to  me?  " 

"  Of  course,"  he  promised,  "  only  first  I  must  find  out 
what  their  terms  ar».  They  will  probably  begin  by  sug- 
gesting an  extravagant  sum.  Tell  me  how  far  you  are 
prepared  to  go  ?  " 

"  You  think  I  shall  have  to  pay  a  great  deal  of  money, 
then  ?  "  she  asked,  anxiously. 


LADY    MARY'S    DILEMMA  in 

"  That  depends  entirely,"  he  answered,  "  upon  what 
you  call  a  great  deal  of  money." 

"  I  might  manage  two  hundred  pounds,"  she  said, 
doubtfully. 

He  smiled. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  "  that  Messrs.  Jacobson  & 
Co.,  or  whatever  their  name  is,  will  expect  more  than 
that." 

"  It  is  so  unlucky,"  she  murmured.  "  I  have  just  paid 
a  huge  dressmaker's  bill,  and  I  have  lost  at  bridge  every 
night  for  a  week.  Do  the  best  you  can  for  me,  dear  Mr. 
Saton." 

He  leaned  towards  her,  but  he  was  too  great  an  artist 
not  to  realize  that  her  feeling  for  him  was  one  of  pure 
indifference.  He  was  to  be  made  use  of,  if  possible  —  to 
be  dazzled  a  little,  perhaps,  but  nothing  more. 

"  I  will  do  the  best  I  can,"  he  said,  rising,  as  he 
saw  her  eyes  travel  towards  the  clock,  "  but  I  am  afraid 
—  I  don't  want  to  frighten  you  —  but  I  am  afraid  that 
you  will  have  to  find  at  least  five  hundred  pounds." 

"  If  I  must,  I  must,"  she  answered,  with  a  sigh.  "  I 
shall  have  to  owe  money  everywhere,  or  else  tell  Henry 
that  I  have  lost  it  at  bridge.  This  is  so  good  of  you, 
Mr.  Saton." 

"  If  I  can  serve  you,"  he  concluded,  holding  her  hand 
for  a  moment  in  his,  "  it  will  be  a  pleasure,  even  though 
the  circumstances  are  so  unfortunate." 

"  I  shall  esteem  the  service  none  the  less,"  she  an- 
swered, smiling  at  him.  "  Come  and  see  me  directly  you 
know  anything.  I  shall  be  so  anxious." 


H2  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

Saton  made  his  way  to  the  cafe  at  the  end  of  Regent 
Street.  This  time  he  had  to  wait  a  little  longer,  but  in 
the  end  the  man  who  had  met  him  there  before  appeared. 
He  came  in  smoking  a  huge  cigar,  and  with  his  silk  hat 
a  little  on  one  side. 

"  A  splendid  day !  "  he  declared.  "  Nearly  double  yes- 
terday's receipts.  The  papers  are  all  here." 

Saton  nodded,  taking  them  up  and  glancing  them 
rapidly  through. 

"Do  you  know  where  I  can  find  Dorrington?  "  he 
said.  "  I  want  that  letter  —  the  Peyton  letter,  you 
know." 

Huntley  nodded. 

"  I've  got  it  in  my  pocket,"  he  said.  "  I  was  keeping 
it  until  to-morrow." 

Saton  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I'll  take  it,"  he  said.  "  I  can  arrange  terms  for  this 
matter  myself." 

Huntley  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"  It  isn't  often,"  he  remarked,  "  that  you  care  to  in- 
terfere with  this  side  of  the  game.  Sure  you're  not  run- 
ning any  risk?  We  can't  do  without  our  professor,  you 
know." 

Saton  shivered  a  little. 

"  No !  I  am  running  no  risk,"  he  said.  "  It  happens 
that  I  have  a  chance  of  settling  this  fairly  well." 

He  had  a  few  more  instructions  to  give.  Afterwards 
he  left  the  place.  The  night  outside  was  close,  and  he 
was  conscious  of  a  certain  breathlessness,  a  certain  im- 
patient desire  for  air.  He  turned  down  toward  the  Em- 


LADY    MARY'S    DILEMMA  113 

bankment,  and  sat  on  one  of  the  seats,  looking  out  at 
the  sky  signs  and  colored  advertisements  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river,  and  down  lower,  where  the  tall  black 
buildings  lost  their  outline  in  the  growing  dusk. 

His  thoughts  travelled  backwards.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  once  more  he  sat  upon  the  hillside  and  built  for 
himself  dream  houses,  saw  himself  fighting  a  splendid 
battle,  gathering  into  his  life  all  the  great  joys,  the 
mysterious  emotions  which  one  may  wrest  from  fate. 
Once  more  he  thrilled  with  the  subtle  pleasure  of  imag- 
ined triumphs.  Then  the  note  of  reality  had  come. 
Rochester's  voice  sounded  in  his  ears.  His  dreams  were 
to  become  true.  The  sword  was  to  be  put  into  his  hand. 
The  strength  was  to  be  given  him.  The  treasure-houses 
of  the  world  were  to  fly  open  at  his  touch.  And  then 
once  more  he  seemed  to  hear  Rochester's  voice,  cold  and 
penetrating.  "  Anything  but  failure!  If  you  fail,  swim 
out  on  a  sunny  day,  and  wait  until  the  waves  creep  over 
your  neck,  over  your  head,  and  you  sink!  The  men  who 
fail  are  the  creatures  of  the  gutter!  " 

Saton  gripped  the  sides  of  his  seat.  He  felt  himself 
suddenly  choking.  He  rose  and  turned  away. 

"  It  would  have  been  better !  It  would  have  been  bet- 
ter !  "  he  muttered  to  himself. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

PETTY    WORRIES 

SATON  threw  down  the  letter  which  he  had  been 
reading,  with  a  little  exclamation  of  impatience. 
It  was  from  a  man  whom,  on  the  strength  of  an 
acquaintance  which  had  certainly  bordered  upon  friend- 
ship, he  had  asked  to  propose  him  at  a  certain  well- 
known  club. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Saton,"  it  ran,  "  1  was  sent  for  to-day 
by  the  Committee  here  upon  the  question  of  your  can- 
didature for  the  club.  They  asked  me  a  good  many 
questions,  which  I  answered  to  the  best  of  my  ability, 
but  you  know  they  are  a  very  old-fashioned  lot,  and  I 
think  it  would  perhaps  be  wisest  if  I  were  to  withdraw 
your  name  for  the  present.  This  I  propose  to  do  unless 
I  hear  from  you  to  the  contrary. 

"  Sincerely  yours, 

"  Gordon  Chambers.9' 

Saton  felt  his  cheeks  flush  as  he  thrust  the  letter  to 
the  bottom  of  the  little  pile  which  stood  in  front  of  him. 
It  was  one  more  of  the  little  annoyances  to  which  some- 
how or  other  he  seemed  at  regular  intervals  to  be  sub- 
jected. Latterly,  things  had  begun  to  expand  with  him. 
He  had  persuaded  Madame  to  give  up  the  old-fashioned 
house  in  Regent's  Park,  and  they  had  moved  into  a 


PETTY    WORRIES  115 

maisonette  in  Mayfair  —  a  little  white-fronted  house, 
with  boxes  full  of  scarlet  geraniums,  a  second  man-serv- 
ant to  open  the  door,  and  an  electric  brougham  in  place 
of  the  somewhat  antiquated  carriage,  which  the  Countess 
had  brought  with  her  from  abroad.  His  banking  account 
was  entirely  satisfactory.  There  were  many  men  and 
women  who  were  only  too  pleased  to  welcome  him  at  their 
houses.  And  yet  he  was  at  all  times  subject  to  such  an 
occurrence  as  this. 

His  lips  were  twisted  in  an  unpleasant  smile  as  he 
frowned  down  upon  the  tablecloth. 

"  It  is  always  like  it ! "  he  muttered.  "  One  climbs  a 
little,  and  then  the  stings  come." 

Madame  entered  the  room,  and  took  her  place  at  the 
other  end  of  the  breakfast  table.  She  leaned  upon  her 
stick  as  she  walked,  and  her  face  seemed  more  than  ever 
lined  in  the  early  morning  sunlight.  She  wore  a  dress  of 
some  soft  black  material,  unrelieved  by  any  patch  of 
color,  against  which  her  cheeks  were  almost  ghastly  in 
their  pallor. 

"  The  stings,  Bertrand?  What  are  they?  "  she  asked, 
pouring  herself  out  some  coffee. 

Saton  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Nothing  that  you  would  understand,"  he  answered 
coldly.  "  I  mean  that  you  would  not  understand  its  sig- 
nificance. Nothing,  perhaps,  that  I  ought  not  to  be  pre- 
pared for." 

She  looked  across  the  table  at  him  with  cold  expres- 
sionless eyes.  To  see  these  two  together  in  their  moments 
of  intimacy,  no  one  would  ever  imagine  that  her  love  for 


n6  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

this  boy  —  he  was  nothing  more  when  chance  had  thrown 
him  in  her  way  —  had  been  the  only  real  passion  of  her 
later  days. 

"  You  do  not  know,"  she  said,  "  what  I  understand  or 
what  I  do  not  understand.  Tell  me  what  it  is  that  worries 
you  in  that  letter." 

He  pushed  it  away  from  him  impatiently. 

"  I  asked  a  friend  —  a  man  named  Chambers  —  to 
put  me  up  for  a  club  I  wanted  to  join,"  he  said.  "  He 
promised  to  do  his  best.  I  have  just  received  a  letter  ad- 
vising me  to  withdraw.  The  committee  would  not  elect 
me." 

"  What  club  is  it?  "  she  asked. 

"  The  '  Wanderers  ',"  he  answered.  "  The  social  qual- 
ification is  not  very  stringent.  I  imagined  that  they 
would  elect  me." 

The  woman  looked  at  him  as  one  seeking  to  under- 
stand some  creature  of  an  alien  world. 

"  You  attach  importance,"  she  asked,  "  to  such  an  in- 
cident as  this?  You?  " 

"  Not  real  importance,  perhaps,"  he  answered,  "  only 
you  must  remember  that  these  are  the  small  things  that 
annoy.  They  amount  to  nothing  really.  I  know  that. 
And  yet  they  sting !  " 

"  Do  not  dwell  upon  the  small  things,  then,"  she  said 
coldly.  "  It  is  well,  for  all  our  sakes,  that  you  should  oc- 
cupy some  position  in  the  social  world,  but  it  is  also  well 
that  you  should  remember  that  your  position  there  is  not 
worth  a  snap  of  the  fingers  as  against  the  great  things 
which  you  and  I  know  of.  What  do  these  people  matter, 


PETTY    WORRIES  117 

with  their  strange  ideas  of  birth  and  position,  their  little 
social  distinctions,  which  remind  one  of  nothing  so  much 
as  Swift's  famous  satire?  You  are  losing  your  sense  of 
proportion,  my  dear  Bertrand.  Go  into  your  study  for 
an  hour  this  morning,  and  think.  Listen  to  the  voices  of 
the  greater  life.  Remember  that  all  these  small  happen- 
ings are  of  less  account  than  the  flight  of  a  bird  on  a 
summer's  day." 

"  You  are  right,"  he  answered,  with  a  little  sigh, 
"  and  yet  you  must  remember  that  you  and  I  can  scarcely 
look  at  things  from  the  same  standpoint.  They  do  not 
affect  you  in  the  slightest.  They  cannot  fail  to  remind 
me  that  I  am  after  all  an  outcast,  rescued  from  ship- 
wreck by  one  strange  turn  in  the  wheel  of  chance." 

She  looked  at  him  with  penetrating  eyes. 

"  Something  is  happening  to  you,  Bertrand,"  she  said. 
"  It  may  be  that  it  is  your  sense  of  proportion  which  is 
at  fault.  It  may  be  that  your  head  is  a  little  turned  by 
the  greatness  of  the  task  which  it  has  fallen  to  your  lot 
to  carry  out.  It  is  true  that  you  are  a  young  man,  and 
that  I  am  an  old  woman.  And  yet,  remember!  We  are 
both  of  us  little  live  atoms  in  the  great  world.  The  only 
things  which  can  appeal  to  us  in  a  different  manner  are 
the  everyday  things  which  should  not  count,  which 
should  not  count  for  a  single  moment,"  she  added,  with  a 
sudden  tremor  in  her  tone. 

"  You  are  right,  of  course,"  he  answered,  "  and  yet, 
Rachael,  you  must  remember  this.  You  have  finished 
with  the  world.  I  am  compelled  to  live  in  it." 

"  If  you  are,"   she  rej  oined,   "  is  that  any   reason, 


n8  THE   MOVING    FINGER 

Bertrand,  why  you  should  pause  to  listen  to  the  voices 
whose  cry  is  meaningless?  Think!  Remember  the  blind 
folly  of  it  all.  A  decade,  a  cycle  of  years,  and  the  men 
who  pass  you  in  Pall  Mall,  and  the  women  who  smile  at 
you  from  their  carriages,  will  be  dead  and  gone.  You  — 
you  may  become  the  Emperor  of  Time  itself.  Remember 
that!" 

"  And  in  the  meantime,  one  has  to  live." 

"  Keep  your  head  in  the  clouds,"  she  said.  "  Make  use 
of  these  people,  but  always  remember  that  in  the  light  of 
what  may  come,  they  are  only  the  dirt  beneath  your  feet. 
Remember  that  you  may  be  the  first  of  all  the  ages  to 
solve  the  great  secret  —  the  secret  of  carrying  your  con- 
sciousness beyond  the  grave." 

"  Life  is  short,"  he  said,  "  and  the  task  is  great." 

"  Too  great  for  cowards,"  she  answered.  "  Yet  look 
at  me.  Do  I  despair?  I  am  seventy-one  years  old.  I  have 
no  fear  of  death.  I  have  learnt  enough  at  least  to  help 
me  into  the  grave.  That  will  do,  Bertrand.  Go  on  with 
your  breakfast,  and  burn  that  letter." 

He  tore  it  in  half,  and  went  to  the  sideboard  to  help 
himself  from  one  of  the  dishes.  When  he  returned,  Ma- 
dame was  drumming  thoughtfully  upon  the  tablecloth 
with  her  long  fingers. 

**  Bertrand,"  she  said. 

He  looked  toward  her  curiously.  There  was  a  new 
note,  a  new  expression  in  the  way  she  had  pronounced  his 
name. 

"  The  girl,  the  little  fair  fool  of  a  girl  with  money  — 
Lois  Champneyes  you  called  her  —  where  is  she  ?  " 


PETTY    WORRIES  119 

"  She  is  in  London,"  he  answered. 

"  With  the  Rochesters?  " 

"  Yes ! " 

Rachael  frowned. 

"  You  find  it  difficult  to  see  her,  then  ?  "  she  remarked, 
thoughtfully. 

"  I  can  see  her  whenever  I  choose  to,"  he  answered. 

"  You  must  marry  her,"  Rachael  said.  "  The  girl  will 
serve  your  purpose  as  well  as  another.  She  is  rich,  and 
she  is  a  fool." 

"  She  is  not  of  age,"  Saton  said  drily,  "  and  Mr. 
Rochester  is  her  guardian." 

"  She  will  be  of  age  very  soon,"  Rachael  answered, 
"  and  the  money  is  sure." 

"  Do  we  need  it  ? "  he  asked,  a  little  impatiently. 
"  We  are  making  now  far  more  than  we  can  spend." 

"  We  need  money  all  the  time,"  she  answered.  "  At 
present,  things  prosper.  Yet  a  change  might  come  —  a 
change  in  the  laws,  a  campaign  in  the  press  —  anything. 
Even  the  truth  might  leak  out." 

Saton  rose  from  his  place,  and  going  once  more  to  the 
sideboard,  took  up  and  lit  a  long  Russian  cigarette.  He 
returned  with  the  box,  and  laid  it  before  Rachael. 

"  If  the  truth  should  leak  out,"  he  said,  "  that  would 
be  the  end  of  us  in  this  country.  We  have  had  one  es- 
cape. I  do  not  mean  to  find  myself  in  the  prisoner's  dock 
a  second  time." 

"  There  is  no  fear  of  that,"  she  answered.  "  The  whole 
business  is  so  arranged  that  neither  you  nor  I  would  be 
connected  with  it.  Besides,  we  have  rearranged  things. 


120  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

We  are  within  the  pale  of  the  law  now.  To  return  to 
what  I  was  saying  about  this  girl." 

"  There  is  no  hurry,"  he  said.  "  Marriage  does  not 
interest  me." 

"  Marriage  for  its  own  sake,  perhaps,  no,"  she  an- 
swered, "  and  yet  money  you  must  have.  No  man  has 
ever  succeeded  in  any  great  work  without  it.  If  a  pauper 
proclaims  a  theory,  he  is  laughed  to  scorn.  He  is  called 
a  charlatan  and  an  impostor.  If  a  rich  man  speaks  of  the 
same  thing,  his  words  are  listened  to  as  one  who  stirs  the 
world.  There  is  a  change  in  you,  Bertrand,"  she  con- 
tinued. "  You  have  avoided  this  girl  lately.  You  have 
avoided,  even,  your  work.  What  is  it?  " 

"  Who  knows?  "  he  answered,  lightly.  "  The  weather, 
perhaps  —  the  moon  —  one's  humor.  I  will  walk  this 
morning  in  Kensington  Gardens.  Perhaps  I  shall  see 
Lois." 

He  left  the  house  half-an-hour  later,  after  dictating 
some  letters  to  a  newly  installed  secretary.  He  accepted 
a  carefully  brushed  hat  from  a  well-trained  and  perfectly 
respectful  servant,  who  placed  also  in  his  hands  his  stick 
and  gloves.  He  descended  a  few  immaculate  steps  and 
turned  westward,  frowning  thoughtfully.  The  matter 
with  him !  He  knew  well  enough.  He  had  taken  his  fate 
into  his  hands,  played  his  cards  boldly  enough,  but  Fate 
was  beginning  to  get  her  own  back. 

He  turned  not  toward  Kensington  Gardens,  but  to- 
wards Cadogan  Street.  He  rang  the  bell  at  one  of  the 
most  pretentious  houses,  and  asked  for  Lady  Marrabel. 
The  butler  was  doubtful  whether  she  would  be  inclined 


PETTY    WORRIES  121 

to  receive  anyone  at  that  hour.  He  was  shown  into  a 
morning-room  and  kept  waiting  for  some  time.  Then  she 
came  in,  serene  as  usual,  with  a  faint  note  of  inquiry  in 
her  upraised  eyebrows  and  the  tone  of  her  voice  as  she 
welcoir.ed  him. 

"I  nrist  apologize,"  he  began ,  a  little  nervously.  "I 
have  no  right  to  come  at  such  an  hour.  I  heard  this 
morning  that  Max  Naudheim  will  be  in  London  before 
the  end  of  the  week,  and  I  wondered  whether  you  would 
care  to  meet  him." 

"  Of  course  I  should,"  she  answered,  "  only  I  hope 
that  he  is  more  comprehensible  than  his  book." 

"  I  have  never  met  him  myself,"  Saton  answered,  "  but 
I  know  that  he  has  a  letter  to  me.  He  will  come  to  my 
house,  I  believe,  and  if  he  follows  out  his  usual  custom, 
he  will  scarcely  leave  it  while  he  stays  in  England.  I 
shall  ask  a  few  people  to  talk  one  night.  I  cannot  at- 
tempt anything  conventional.  It  does  not  seem  to  me  to 
be  an  occasion  for  anything  of  the  sort.  If  you  will 
come,  I  will  let  you  know  the  night  and  the  time." 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

"  And  if  you  should  come,"  he  continued,  "  even 
though  it  be  the  evening,  please  wear  an  old  dress  and 
hat.  Naudheim  himself  seldom  appears  in  a  collar.  Any 
social  gathering  of  any  sort  is  loathsome  to  him.  He 
will  talk  only  amongst  those  whom  he  believes  are  his 
friends." 

"  I  will  come,  of  course,"  Pauline  answered.  "  It  is 
good  of  you  to  think  of  me." 

"  He  may  speak  to  you,"  Saton  continued.  "  He  takes 


122  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

curious  fancies  sometimes  to  address  a  perfect  stranger, 
and  talk  to  them  intimately.  Remember  that  though  he 
lives  in  Switzerland,  and  has  a  German  name,  he  is  really 
an  Englishman.  Nothing  annoys  him  more  than  to  be 
spoken  to  in  any  other  language." 

"  I  will  remember,"  Pauline  said. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Saton  felt  that  he  was 
expected  to  go.  Yet  there  was  something  in  her  manner 
which  he  could  not  altogether  understand,  some  nervous- 
ness, which  seemed  absolutely  foreign  to  her  usual  de- 
meanour. He  took  up  his  hat  reluctantly. 

"  You  are  busy  to-day  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  am  always  busy,"  she  answered.  "  Perhaps  it  is 
because  I  am  so  lazy.  I  never  do  anything,  so  there  is  al- 
ways so  much  to  do." 

He  made  the  plunge,  speaking  without  any  of  his 
usual  confidence  —  hurriedly,  almost  indistinctly. 

"  Won't  you  come  and  have  some  luncheon  with  me 
at  the  Berkeley,  or  anywhere  you  please  ?  I  feel  like  talk- 
ing to-day.  I  feel  that  I  am  a  little  nearer  the  first  law. 
I  want  to  speak  of  it  to  someone." 

She  hesitated,  and  he  saw  her  fingers  twitch. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  "  I  am  afraid  I  can't.  If  you 
like,  you  can  come  and  have  luncheon  here.  I  have  one 
or  two  people  coming  in." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said.  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  come. 
About  half -past  one,  I  suppose?  " 

"  From  that  to  two,"  she  answered.  "  My  friends  drop 
in  at  any  time." 

He  passed  out  into  the  street,  not  altogether  satisfied 


PETTY   WORRIES  123; 

with  his  visit,  and  yet  not  dissatisfied.  He  had  an  in- 
stinctive feeling  that  in  some  degree  her  demeanour  to- 
wards him  was  changed.  What  it  meant  he  could  not 
wholly  tell.  She  no  longer  met  his  eyes  with  that  look  of 
careless,  slightly  contemptuous  interest.  Yet  when  he 
tried  to  find  encouragement  from  the  fact,  he  felt  that  he 
lacked  all  his  usual  confidence.  He  realized  with  a  little 
impulse  of  annoyance  that  in  the  presence  of  this  woman, 
whom  he  was  more  anxious  to  impress  than  anyone  else 
in  the  world,  he  was  subject  to  sudden  lapses  of  self- 
confidence,  to  a  certain  self -depreciation,  which  irritated 
him.  Was  it,  he  wondered,  because  he  was  always  fancy- 
ing that  she  looked  at  him  out  of  Rochester's  eyes? 

A  cab  drove  past  him,  and  stopped  before  the  house 
which  he  had  just  left.  He  looked  behind,  with  a  sudden 
feeling  of  almost  passionate  jealousy.  It  was  Rochester, 
who  had  driven  by  him  unseen,  and  who  was  now  mount- 
ing the  steps  to  her  house. 


CHAPTER  XV 

BOCHESTEB    IS    INDIGNANT 

ROCHESTER  accepted  his  wife's,  offer  of  a  lift 
in  her  victoria  after  the  luncheon  party  in 
Cadogan  Street. 

"  Mary,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  the  horses  had  started, 
"  I  cannot  imagine  why  you  were  so  civil  to  that  in- 
sufferable bounder  Saton." 

She  looked  at  him  thoughtfully. 

"  Is  he  an  insufferable  bounder?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  find  him  so,"  Rochester  answered,  deliberately. 
"  He  dresses  like  other  men,  he  walks  and  moves  like 
other  men,  he  speaks  like  other  men,  and  all  the  time  I 
know  that  he  is  acting.  He  plays  the  game  well,  but  it 
is  a  game.  The  man  is  a  bounder,  and  you  will  all  of  you 
find  it  out  some  day." 

"  Don't  you -think,  perhaps,"  his  wife  remarked,  "  that 
you  are  prejudiced  because  you  have  some  knowledge  of 
his  antecedents  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  Rochester  answered.  "  The  fetish 
of  birth  has  never  appealed  to  me.  I  find  as  many 
gentlefolk  amongst  my  tenants  and  servants,  as  at  the 
parties  to  which  I  have  the  honor  of  escorting  you.  It 
isn't  that  at  all.  It's  a  matter  of  insight.  Some  day 
you  will  all  of  you  find  it  out." 


ROCHESTER   IS    INDIGNANT         125 

"  All  of  us,  I  presume,"  Lady  Mary  said,  "  includes 
Pauline." 

Rochester  nodded. 

"  Pauline  has  disappointed  me,"  he  said.  "  Never  be- 
fore have  I  known  her  instinct  at  fault.  She  must  know 
—  in  her  heart  she  must  know  that  there  is  something 
wrong  about  the  fellow.  And  yet  she  receives  him  at  her 
house,  and  treats  him  with  a  consideration  which, 
frankly,  shall  we  say,  annoys  me?  " 

"  One  might  remind  you,"  Lady  Mary  remarked, 
"  that  it  is  you  who  are  responsible  for  this  young  man's 
introduction  amongst  our  friends." 

"  It  is  true,"  Rochester  answered.  "  I  regret  it  bit- 
terly. I  regret  it  more  than  ever  to-day." 

"  Because  of  Pauline  ?  "  Lady  Mary  asked. 

"  Because  of  Pauline,  and  for  one  other  reason," 
Rochester  answered,  lowering  his  voice,  and  turning  a 
little  in  his  seat  towards  his  wife.  "  Mary,  I  was  unfor- 
tunate enough  to  hear  a  sentence  which  passed  between 
you  and  this  person  in  the  hall.  I  would  have  shut  my 
ears  if  I  could,  but  it  was  not  possible.  Am  I  to  under- 
stand that  you  have  made  use  of  him  in  some  way  ?  " 

Lady  Mary  gasped.  This  was  a  thunderbolt  to  descend 
at  her  feet  without  a  second's  warning ! 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  she  said  slowly,  "  he  has  done 
me  a  service." 

Rochester's  face  darkened. 

"  I  should  be  interested,"  he  said,  "  to  know  the  cir- 
cumstances." 

Lady  Mary  was  not  a  coward,  and  she  realized  that 


126  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

there  was  nothing  for  it  but  the  absolute  truth.  Her 
husband's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her,  filled  with  an  ex- 
pression which  she  very  seldom  saw  in  them.  After  all, 
she  had  little  enough  to  fear.  Their  relations  were 
scarcely  such  that  he  could  assume  the  position  of  a 
jealous  husband. 

"  I  suppose  that  you  will  laugh  at  me,  Henry,"  she 
said.  "  Perhaps  you  will  be  angry.  However,  one  must 
amuse  oneself.  Frankly,  I  think  that  all  this  talk  that  is 
going  on  about  occultism,  and  being  able  to  read  the  fu- 
ture, and  to  find  new  laws  for  the  government  of  the 
will,  has  perhaps  turned  my  brain  a  little.  Anyhow,  I 
went  to  one  of  those  Bond  Street  people,  and  asked  them 
a  few  questions." 

"  You  mean  to  one  of  these  crystal-gazers  or  fortune- 
tellers ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Precisely,"  she  answered.  "  No  doubt  you  think  that 
I  am  mad,  but  if  you  had  any  idea  of  the  women  in  our 
own  set  who  have  done  the  same  thing,  I  think  you  would 
be  astonished.  Well,  whilst  I  was  there  I  chanced  to 
drop,  or  leave  behind  —  it  scarcely  concerns  you  to 
know  which  —  a  letter  written  to  me  by  a  very  dear 
friend.  One  of  my  perfectly  harmless  love  affairs,  you 
know,  Henry,  but  men  do  make  such  idiots  of  themselves 
when  they  have  pen  and  paper  to  do  it  with." 

Rochester  moved  a  little  uneasily  in  his  place. 

"  May  I  inquire "  he  began. 

"  No,  I  shouldn't !  "  she  interrupted.  "  You  know  very 
well,  my  dear  Henry,  the  exact  terms  upon  which  we 
have  both  found  married  life  endurable.  If  I  choose  to 


ROCHESTER    IS    INDIGNANT         127 

receive  foolish  letters  from  foolish  men,  it  concerns  you 
no  more  than  your  silent  adoration  of  Pauline  Marrabel 
does  me.  You  understand?  " 

"  I  understand,"  he  answered  quietly.  "  Go  on." 

"  Well,"  she  continued,  "  a  few  days  afterwards  I  had 
just  about  as  terrifying  a  specimen  of  a  blackmailing 
letter  as  you  can  possibly  imagine." 

"  From  these  people?  "  Rochester  asked. 

"  No !  From  a  firm  who  called  themselves  agents,  and 
said  that  the  letter  had  come  into  their  possession,  had 
been  deposited  with  them,  in  fact,  by  someone  who  owed 
them  some  money,"  Lady  Mary  answered.  "  Of  course, 
I  was  frightened  to  death.  I  don't  know  what  made  me 
think  of  Bertrand  Saton  as  the  best  person  to  consult, 
but  anyhow  I  did.  He  took  the  matter  up  for  me,  paid 
over  some  money  on  my  account,  and  recovered  the 
letter." 

"  The  sum  of  money  being?  " 

"  Five  hundred  pounds,"  Lady  Mary  answered,  with 
a  sigh.  "  It  was  a  great  deal,  but  the  letter  —  well,  the 
letter  was  certainly  very  foolish." 

Rochester  was  silent  for  several  moments. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  asked  at  length,  "  what  the 
natural  inference  to  me  seems  —  the  inference,  I  mean, 
of  what  you  have  just  told  me?  " 

"You  are  not  going  to  say  anything  disagreeable?  " 
she  asked,  looking  at  him  through  the  lace  fringe  of 
her  parasol. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  he  answered.  "  I  was  not  think- 
ing of  the  personal  side  of  the  affair  —  so  far  as  you  and 


128  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

I  are  concerned,  I  have  accepted  your  declaration.  I 
claim  no  jurisdiction  over  your  correspondence.  I  mean 
as  regards  Saton." 

"No!  What?"  she  asked. 

"  It  seems  to  me  highly  possible,"  he  declared,  "  that 
Saton  was  in  league  with  these  blackmailers,  whoever 
they  may  have  been.  Any  ordinary  man  whom  you  had 
consulted  would  have  settled  the  matter  in  a  very  differ- 
ent way." 

"  I  was  quite  satisfied,"  Lady  Mary  answered.  "  I 
thought  it  was  really  very  kind  of  him  to  take  the 
trouble." 

"  Indeed !  "  Rochester  remarked  drily.  "  I  must  say, 
Mary,  that  I  gave  you  credit  for  greater  perspicuity. 
The  man  is  an  intriguer.  Naturally,  he  was  only  too 
anxious  to  be  of  service  to  so  charming  a  lady." 

Lady  Mary  raised  her  eyebrows,  but  did  not  answer. 

"  I  might  add,"  Rochester  continued,  "  that  however 
satisfactory  our  present  relations  may  seem  to  you,  I 
still  claim  the  privilege  of  being  able  to  assist  my  wife 
in  any  difficulty  in  which  she  may  find  herself." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  she  murmured. 

"  Further,"  Rochester  said,  "  I  resent  the  interference 
of  any  third  party  in  such  a  matter.  You  will  remember 
this?" 

"  I  will  remember  it,"  Lady  Mary  said.  "  Still,  the 
circumstances  being  as  they  are,  you  can  scarcely  blame 
me  for  having  been  civil  to  him  to-day.  Besides,  you 
must  admit  that  he  is  clever." 

"  Clever !  Oh !  I've  no  doubt  that  he  is  clever  enough," 


ROCHESTER   IS    INDIGNANT        129 

Rochester  answered,  impatiently.  "  Nowadays,  all  you 
women  seem  as  though  you  can  only  be  attracted  by 
something  freakish  —  brains,  or  peculiar  gifts  of  some 
sort." 

Lady  Mary  laughed  lightly. 

"  My  dear  Henry,"  she  said,  "  you  are  not  exactly  a 
fool  yourself,  are  you?  And  then  you  must  remember 
this.  Bertrand  Baton's  cleverness  is  the  sort  of  clever- 
ness which  appeals  to  women.  We  can't  help  our  natures, 
I  suppose,  and  we  are  always  attracted  by  the  mys- 
terious. We  are  always  wanting  to  know  something 
which  other  people  don't  know,  something  of  what  lies 
behind  the  curtain." 

"  It  is  a  very  dangerous  curiosity,"  Rochester  said. 
"  You  are  liable  to  become  the  prey  of  any  adventurer 
with  a  plausible  manner,  who  has  learned  to  talk  glibly 
about  the  things  which  he  doesn't  understand.  I'll  get 
out  here,  if  I  may,"  he  added,  "  and  take  a  short  cut 
across  the  Park  to  my  club.  Mary,  if  you  want  to  oblige 
me,  for  Heaven's  sake  don't  run  this  fellow !  He  gets  on 
my  nerves.  I  hate  the  sight  of  him." 

Lady  Mary  turned  towards  her  husband  with  a  faint, 
curious  smile  as  the  carriage  drew  up. 

"  You  had  better  talk  to  Pauline,"  she  said.  "  He  is 
more  in  her  line  than  mine." 

Rochester  walked  across  the  Park  a  little  gloomily. 
His  wife's  last  words  were  ringing  in  his  ears.  For  the 
first  time  since  he  could  remember,  a  little  cloud  had 
loomed  over  his  few  short  hours  with  Pauline.  She  had 
resented  some  contemptuous  speech  of  his,  and  as  though 


i3o  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

to  mark  her  sense  of  his  lack  of  generosity,  she  had  en- 
couraged Saton  to  talk,  encouraged  him  to  talk  until  the 
other  conversation  had  died  away,  and  the  whole  room 
had  listened  to  this  exponent  of  what  he  declared  to  be 
a  new  science.  The  fellow  was  a  poseur  and  an  impostor, 
Rochester  told  himself  vigorously.  He  knew,  he  was  ab- 
solutely convinced  that  he  was  not  honest. 

He  sat  down  on  a  seat  for  a  few  minutes,  and  his 
thoughts  somehow  wandered  back  to  that  night  when  he 
had  strolled  over  the  hills  and  found  a  lonely  boy  gazing 
downward  through  the  tree  tops  to  the  fading  land- 
scape. He  remembered  his  own  whimsical  generosity,  the 
feelings  with  which  he  had  made  his  offer.  He  remem- 
bered, too,  the  conditions  which  he  had  made.  With  a 
sudden  swift  anger,  he  realized  that  those  conditions  had 
not  been  kept.  Saton  had  told  him  little  or  nothing  of 
his  doings  out  in  the  world,  of  his  struggles  and  his 
failures,  of  the  growth  of  this  new  enthusiasm,  if  indeed 
it  was  an  enthusiasm.  He  had  hinted  at  strange  adven- 
tures, but  he  had  spoken  of  nothing  definite.  He  had  not 
kept  his  word. 

Rochester  rose  to  his  feet  with  a  little  exclamation. 

"  He  shall  tell  me ! "  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  or  I 
will  expose  him,  if  I  have  to  turn  detective  and  follow 
him  round  the  world." 

He  swung  round  again  across  the  Park  toward  May- 
fair,  and  rang  the  bell  at  Saton's  new  house.  Mr.  Saton 
was  not  at  home,  he  was  informed,  but  was  expected 
back  at  any  moment.  Rochester  accepted  an  invitation 
to  wait,  and  was  shown  into  a  room  which  at  first  he 


ROCHESTER   IS   INDIGNANT         131 

thought  empty.  Then  someone  rose  from  an  old-fash- 
ioned easy-chair,  set  back  amongst  the  shadows.  Rachael 
peered  forward,  leaning  upon  her  stick,  and  shading  her 
eyes  as  though  from  the  sun. 

"  Who  is  that?  "  she  asked.  "  Who  are  you?  " 

Rochester  bowed,  and  introduced  himself.  As  yet  he 
could  see  very  little  of  the  person  who  had  spoken.  The 
blinds,  and  even  the  curtains  of  the  room,  were  close 
drawn.  It  was  one  of  Rachael's  strange  fancies  on  cer- 
tain days  to  sit  in  the  darkness.  Suddenly,  however,  she 
leaned  forward  and  touched  the  knob  of  the  electric 
light. 

"  My  name  is  Rochester,"  he  said.  "  I  called  to  see 
Mr.  Saton  for  a  few  minutes.  They  asked  me  to  wait." 

"  I  am  the  Comtesse  de  Vestignes,"  Rachael  said 
slowly,  "  and  Bertrand  Saton  is  my  adopted  son.  He 
will  be  back  in  a  few  moments.  Draw  your  chair  up  close 
to  me.  I  should  like  to  talk,  if  you  do  not  mind  this 
light.  I  have  been  resting,  and  my  eyes  are  tired." 

Rochester  obeyed,  and  seated  himself  by  her  side  with 
a  curious  little  thrill  of  interest.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
she  was  like  the  mummy  of  some  ancient  goddess,  the 
shadowy  presentment  of  days  long  past.  She  had  the 
withered  appearance  of  great  age,  and  yet  the  dignity 
which  refuses  to  yield  to  time. 

"  Come  nearer,"  she  said.  "  I  am  no  longer  a  young 
woman,  and  I  am  a  little  deaf." 

"  You  must  tell  me  if  you  do  not  hear  me,"  Rochester 
said.  "  My  voice  is  generally  thought  to  be  a  clear  one. 
I  am  very  much  interested  in  this  young  man.  Suppose, 


i32  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

while  we  wait,  you  tell  me  a  few  things  about  him.  You 
have  no  objection?  " 

Rachael  laughed  softly. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said,  "  what  it  is  that  you  expect  to 
hear  from  me." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

PLAIN    SPEAKING 

FROM  the  depths  of  her  chair,  Rachael  for  several 
moments  sat  and  subjected  her  visitor  to  a  close 
and  merciless  scrutiny. 

"  So  you,"  she  said  at  last,  "  were  the  fairy  god- 
father. You  were  the  man  who  trusted  a  nameless  boy 
with  five  hundred  pounds,  because  his  vaporings  amused 
you.  You  pushed  him  out  into  the  world,  you  bade  him 
go  and  seek  his  fortune." 

"  I  was  that  infernal  fool ! "  Rochester  muttered. 

The  woman  nodded. 

"  Yes,  a  fool ! "  she  said.  "  No  one  but  a  fool  would 
do  such  a  thing.  And  yet  great  things  have  come  of  it." 

Rochester  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  was  not  pre- 
pared to  admit  that  Bertrand  Saton  was  in  any  sense 
great. 

"  My  adopted  son,"  she  continued,  "  is  very  wonder- 
ful. Egypt  had  its  soothsayers  thousands  of  years  ago. 
This  century,  too,  may  have  its  prophet.  Bertrand  gains 
power  every  day.  He  is  beginning  to  understand." 

"  You,  too,"  Rochester  asked  politely,  "  are  perhaps 
a  student  of  the  occult  ?  " 

"  Whatever  I  am,"  she  answered  scornfully,  "  I  am 
not  one  of  those  who  because  their  two  feet  are  planted 


134  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

upon  the  earth,  and  their  head  reaches  six  feet  towards 
the  sky,  are  prepared  to  declare  that  there  is  no  universe 
save  the  earth  upon  which  they  stand,  no  sky  save  the 
sky  toward  which  they  look  —  nothing  in  life  which 
their  eyes  will  not  show  them,  or  which  their  hands  may 
not  touch." 

Rochester  smiled  faintly. 

"  Materialism  is  an  easy  faith  and  a  safe  one,"  he 
said.  "  Imagination  is  very  distorting." 

"  For  you  who  feel  like  that,"  she  answered,  "  the  way 
through  life  is  simple  enough.  We  others  can  only  pity." 

"  Comtesse,"  Rochester  said,  "  such  an  attitude  is  per- 
fectly reasonable.  It  is  only  when  you  attempt  to  con- 
vert that  we  are  obliged  to  fall  back  upon  our  readiest 
weapons." 

"  You  are  one  of  those,"  she  said,  looking  at  him 
keenly,  "  who  do  not  wish  to  understand  more  than  you 
understand  at  present,  who  have  no  desire  to  gain  the 
knowledge  of  hidden  things." 

11  You  are  right,  Comtesse,"  Rochester  answered,  with 
a  smile.  "  I  am  one  of  those  pig-headed  individuals." 

"  It  is  the  Saxon  race,"  she  muttered,  "  who  have  kept 
back  the  progress  of  the  world  for  centuries." 

"  We  have  kept  it  backward,  perhaps,"  he  answered, 
"  but  wholesome." 

"  You  think  always  of  your  bodies,"  she  said. 

"  They  were  entrusted  to  us,  madam,  to  look  after," 
he  answered. 

She  smiled  grimly. 

"  You  are  not  such  a  fool,"  she  said,  "  as  my  adopted 


PLAIN    SPEAKING  135 

son  would  have  me  believe.  You  have  spared  me  at  least 
that  hideous  Latin  quotation  which  has  done  so  much 
harm  to  your  race." 

"  Out  of  respect  to  you,"  he  declared,  "  I  avoided  it. 
It  was  really  a  little  too  obvious." 

"  Come,"  she  said,  "  you  are  a  type  of  man  I  have 
not  met  with  for  years.  You  are  strong  and  vigorous 
and  healthy.  You  have  color  upon  your  cheeks,  and 
strength  in  your  tone  and  movements.  In  any  show  of 
your  kind,  you  should  certainly  be  entitled  to  a  prize." 

Rochester  laughed,  at  first  softly,  and  then  heartily. 

"  My  dear  lady,"  he  said,  "  forgive  me.  I  can  assure 
you  that  although  my  inclinations  do  not  prompt  me  to 
sit  at  your  son's  feet  and  accept  his  mythical  sayings  as 
the  words  of  a  god,  I  am  really  not  a  fool.  I  will 
even  go  so  far  as  this.  I  will  even  admit  the  possibility 
that  a  serious  and  religious  study  of  occultism  might  re- 
sult in  benefit  to  all  of  us.  The  chief  point  where  you 
and  I  differ  is  with  regard  to  your  adopted  son.  You 
believe  in  him,  apparently.  I  don't ! " 

*"  Then  why  are  you  here  ?  "  she  asked.  "  What  da 
you  want  with  him  ?  Do  you  come  as  an  enemy  ?  " 

Rochester  was  spared  the  necessity  of  making  any  an- 
swer. He  heard  the  door  open,  and  the  woman's  eyes, 
glittered  as  they  turned  toward  it. 

"  Bertrand  is  here  himself,"  she  said.  "  You  can  set- 
tle your  business  with  him." 

Rochester  rose  to  his  feet.  Saton  had  just  entered,, 
closing  the  door  behind  him.  Prepared  for  Rochester's 
presence  by  the  servants,  he  greeted  him  calmly  enough. 


136  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  This  is  an  unexpected  honor,"  he  said,  bowing.  "  I 
did  not  imagine  that  we  should  meet  again  so  soon." 

"  Nor  I,"  Rochester  answered.  "  Where  can  we  talk  ?  " 

"  Here  as  well  as  anywhere,"  Saton  answered,  going 
up  to  Rachael,  and  lifting  her  hand  for  a  moment  to  his 
lips.  "  From  this  lady,  whose  acquaintance  I  presume 
you  have  made,  I  have  no  secrets." 

Rochester  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  —  the  woman, 
sitting  erect  and  severe  in  her  chair,  the  young  man 
bending  affectionately  over  her.  Yes,  he  was  right ! 
There  was  something  about  the  two  hard  to  explain,  yet 
apparent  to  him  as  he  sat  there,  which  seemed  in  some 
way  to  remove  them  out  of  direct  kinship  with  the  or- 
dinary people  of  the  world.  Was  it,  he  wondered,  with 
A  sudden  swift  intuition,  a  touch  of  insularity,  a  sign  of 
narrowness,  that  he  should  find  himself  so  utterly  re- 
pelled by  this  foreign  note  in  their  temperaments?  Was 
his  disapproval,  after  all,  but  a  mark  of  snobbishness, 
the  snobbishness  which,  to  use  a  mundane  parallel,  takes 
objection  to  the  shape  of  an  unfashionable  collar,  or  the 
•cut  of  a  country-made  coat?  There  were  other  races 
upon  the  world  beside  the  race  of  aristocrats.  There  was 
an  aristocracy  of  brains,  of  genius,  of  character.  Yet  he 
reasoned  against  his  inspiration.  Nothing  could  make 
him  believe  that  the  boy  who  had  held  out  his  hands  so 
-eagerly  toward  the  fire  of  life,  had  not  ended  by  gather- 
ing to  himself  experiences  and  a  cult  of  living  from 
"which  any  ordinary  mortal  would  have  shrunk. 

"  I  am  quite  content,"  Rochester  said,  "  to  say  what 
J  have  to  say.  before  this  lady,  especially  if  she  knows 


PLAIN    SPEAKING  137 

your  history.  I  have  come  here  to  tell  you  this.  I  have 
been  your  sponsor,  perhaps  your  unwilling  sponsor,  into 
the  society  and  to  the  friends  amongst  whom  you  spend 
your  time.  I  am  not  satisfied  with  my  sponsorship.  That 
you  came  of  humble  parentage,  although  you  never  al- 
lude to  the  fact,  goes  for  nothing.  That  you  may  be  for- 
given. But  there  are  seven  years  of  your  past  the  knowl- 
edge of  which  is  a  pledge  to  me.  I  have  come  to  insist 
upon  your  fulfilment  of  it.  For  seven  years  you  disap- 
peared. Where  were  you?  How  did  you  blossom  into 
prosperity?  How  is  it  that  you,  the  professor  of  a  new 
cult,  whose  first  work  is  as  yet  unpublished,  find  yourself 
enabled  to  live  in  luxury  like  this?  You  had  no  god- 
mother then.  Who  is  this  lady?  Why  do  you  call  her 
your  godmother?  She  is  nothing  of  the  sort.  You  and 
I  know  that  —  you  and  I  and  she.  There  are  things 
about  you,  Saton,  which  I  find  it  hard  to  understand.  I 
want  to  understand  them  for  the  sake  of  my  friends." 

"And  if  you  do  not?  "  Saton  asked  calmly. 

"  Well,  it  must  be  open  war,"  Rochester  declared. 

"  I  should  say  that  it  amounted  to  that  now,"  Saton 
answered. 

"  Scarcely,"  Rochester  declared,  "  for  if  it  had  been 
open  war  I  should  have  asked  you  before  now  to  tell  me 
where  it  was  that  you  and  Lord  Guerdon  had  met.  Re- 
member I  heard  the  words  trembling  upon  his  lips,  and 
I  saw  your  face !  " 

Saton  did  not  move,  nor  did  he  speak  for  a  moment. 
His  cheeks  were  a  little  pale,  but  he  gave  no  sign  of 
being  moved.  The  woman's  face  was  like  the  face  of  a 


138  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

sphinx,  withered  and  emotionless.  Her  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  Saton's. 

"  You  have  spoken  to  me  before  somewhat  in  this 
strain,  sir,"  Saton  said.  "  What  I  said  to  you  then,  I  re- 
peat. The  account  between  us  is  ruled  out.  You  lent  or 
gave  me  a  sum  of  money,  and  I  returned  it.  As  to  grati- 
tude," he  went  on,  "  that  I  may  or  may  not  feel.  I  leave 
you  to  judge.  You  can  ask  yourself,  if  you  will,  whether 
that  action  of  yours  came  from  an  impulse  of  generosity, 
or  was  merely  the  gratification  of  a  cynical  whim." 

"  My  motives  are  beside  the  question,"  Rochester  an- 
swered. "  Do  I  understand  that  you  decline  to  give  me 
any  account  of  yourself?  " 

"  I  see  no  reason,"  Saton  said  coldly,  "  why  I  should 
gratify  your  curiosity." 

"  There  is  no  reason,"  Rochester  admitted.  "  It  is 
simply  a  matter  of  policy.  Frankly,  I  mistrust  you. 
There  are  points  about  your  behaviour,  ever  since  in  a 
foolish  moment  I  asked  you  to  stay  at  Beauleys,  which 
I  do  not  understand.  I  do  not  understand  Lord  Guer- 
don's sudden  recognition  of  you,  and  even  suddener 
death.  I  do  not  understand  why  it  has  amused  you  to 
fill  the  head  of  my  young  ward,  Lois  Champneyes,  with 
foolish  thoughts.  I  do  not  understand  why  you  should 
stand  between  my  wife  and  the  writers  of  a  blackmailing 
letter.  I  do  not  ask  you  for  any  explanation.  I  simply 
tell  you  that  these  things  present  themselves  as  enigmas 
to  me.  You  have  declared  your  position.  I  declare  mine. 
What  you  will  not  tell  me  I  shall  make  it  my  business 
to  discover." 


PLAIN    SPEAKING  139 

The  Comtesse  leaned  a  little  forward.  Her  face  was 
still  unchanged,  her  tone  scornful. 

"  It  is  I  who  will  answer  you,"  she  said.  "  My  adopted 
son  —  for  he  is  my  adopted  son  if  I  choose  to  make  him 
so  —  will  explain  nothing.  He  has,  in  fact,  nothing 
more  to  say  to  you.  You  and  he  are  quits  so  far  as  re- 
gards obligations.  Your  paths  in  life  lie  apart.  You 
are  one  of  the  self-centred,  sedentary  loiterers  by  the 
way.  For  him,"  she  added,  throwing  out  suddenly  her 
brown,  withered  hand,  aflame  with  jewels,  "  there  lie  dif- 
ferent things.  Something  he  knows ;  something  he  has 
learned ;  much  there  is  yet  for  him  to  learn.  He  will  go 
on  his  way,  undisturbed  by  you  or  any  friends  of  yours. 
As  for  his  means,  your  question  is  an  impertinence.  Ask 
at  Rothschilds  concerning  the  Comtesse  de  Vestignes, 
and  remember  that  what  belongs  to  me  belongs  to  him. 
Measure  your  wits  against  his,  to-day,  to-morrow,  or 
any  time  you  choose,  and  the  end  is  certain.  Show  your 
patron  out,  Bertrand.  He  has  amused  me  for  a  little 
time,  but  I  am  tired." 

Rochester  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  "  I  am  sorry  to  have  fatigued  you. 
For  the  rest,"  he  added,  with  a  note  of  irony  in  his  tone, 
"  I  suppose  I  must  accept  your  challenge.  I  feel  that  I 
am  measuring  myself  and  my  poor  powers  against  all 
sorts  of  nameless  gifts.  And  yet,"  he  added,  as  he  fol- 
lowed Saton  towards  the  door,  "  the  world  goes  round, 
and  the  things  which  happened  yesterday  repeat  them- 
selves to-morrow.  Your  new  science  should  teach  you, 
at  least,  not  to  gamble  against  certainties." 


140  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

He  passed  out  of  the  room,  and  Saton  returned  slowly 
to  where  Rachael  was  sitting.  Her  eyes  sought  his  in- 
quiringly. They  read  the  anguish  in  his  face. 

"  You  are  afraid,"  she  muttered. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  admitted.  "  Given  an  inversion  of 
their  relative  positions,  I  feel  like  Faust  befriended  by 
Mephistopheles.  I  felt  it  when  he  stood  by  my  side  on 
the  hilltop,  seven  years  ago.  I  felt  it  when  he  thrust  that 
money  into  my  hand,  and  bade  me  go  and  see  what  I 
could  make  of  life,  bade  me  go,  without  a  word  of  kind- 
ness, without  a  touch  of  his  fingers,  without  a  sentence  of 
encouragement,  with  no  admonitory  words  save  that  one 
single  diatribe  against  failure.  You  know  what  he  told 
me?  *  Go  out,'  he  said, '  and  try  your  luck.  Go  out  along 
the  road  which  your  eyes  have  watched  fading  into  the 
mists.  But  remember  this.  For  men  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  failure.  One  may  swim  too  far  out  to  sea  on  a  sunny 
day.  One  may  trifle  with  a  loaded  revolver,  or  drink  in 
one's  sleep  the  draught  from  which  one  does  not  awake. 
But  for  men,  there  is  no  failure.' ' 

The  woman  nodded. 

"  Well,"  she  said  harshly,  "  you  remembered  that. 
You  did  not  fail.  Who  dares  to  say  that  you  have 
failed!" 

Saton  threw  himself  into  the  easy-chair  drawn  apart 
from  hers.  His  head  fell  forward  into  his  hands.  The 
woman  rested  her  head  upon  her  fingers,  and  watched 
him  through  the  shadows. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE    GREAT    NAUDHEIM 

NAUDHEIM  had  finished  his  address,  and  stood 
talking  with  his  host. 
"  Do  you  mind,"  Saton  asked,  "  if  I  intro- 
duce some  of  these  people  to  you?  You  know  many  of 
them  by  name." 

Naudheim  shook  his  head.  He  was  a  tall  man,  with 
gray,  unkempt  hair,  and  long,  wizened  face.  He  wore 
a  black  suit  of  clothes,  of  ancient  cut,  and  a  stock  which 
had  literally  belonged  to  his  grandfather. 

"  No ! "  he  said  vigorously.  "  I  will  be  introduced  to 
no  one.  Why  should  I?  I  have  spoken  to  them  of  the 
things  which  make  life  for  us.  I  have  told  them  my 
thoughts.  What  need  is  there  of  introduction?  I  shake 
hands  with  no  one.  I  leave  that,  and  silly  speeches,  and 
banquets,  to  my  enemies,  the  professors.  These  are  not 
my  ways." 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  of  course,"  Saton  replied. 
"  You  are  very  fortunate  to  be  able  to  live  and  work 
alone.  Here  we  have  to  adapt  ourself  in  some  way  to  the 
customs  of  the  people  with  whom  we  are  forced  to  come 
into  daily  contact." 

Naudheim  suddenly  abandoned  that  far-away  look  of 
his,  his  habit  of  seeing  through  the  person  with  whom 


I42  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

he  was  talking.  He  looked  into  Saton's  face  steadily,  al- 
most fiercely. 

"  Young  man,"  he  said,  "  you  talk  like  a  fool.  Now 
listen  to  me.  These  are  my  parting  words  !  There  is  stuff 
in  you.  You  know  a  little.  You  could  be  taught  much 
more.  And  above  all,  you  have  the  temperament.  Tem- 
perament is  a  wonderful  thing,"  he  added.  "  And  yet, 
with  all  these  gifts,  you  make  me  feel  as  though  I  would 
like  to  take  you  by  the  collar  and  lift  you  up  in  my 
arms  —  yes,  I  am  strong  though  I  am  thin  —  and  throw 
you  out  of  that  window,  and  see  you  lie  there,  because 
you  are  a  fool !  " 

"  Go  on,"  Saton  said,  his  face  growing  a  little  pale. 

"  Oh,  you  know  it ! "  Naudheim  declared.  "  You  feel 
it  in  your  blood.  You  know  it  in  your  heart.  You  truckle 
to  these  people,  you  play  at  living  their  life,  and  you  for- 
get, if  ever  you  knew,  that  our  great  mistress  has  never 
yet  opened  her  arms  save  to  those  who  have  sought  her 
single-hearted  and  with  a  single  purpose.  You  are  a 
dallier,  philanderer.  You  will  end  your  days  wearing 
your  fashionable  clothes.  They  may  make  you  a  profes- 
sor here.  You  will  talk  learnedly.  You  will  write  a  book. 
And  when  you  die,  people  will  say  a  great  man  has 
gone.  Listen !  You  listen  to  me  now  with  only  half  your 
ears,  but  listen  once  more.  The  time  may  come.  The 
light  may  burn  in  your  heart,  the  truth  may  fill  your 
soul.  Then  come  to  me.  Come  to  me,  young  man,  and  I 
will  make  bone  and  sinew  of  your  flabby  limbs.  I  will 
take  you  in  my  hands  and  I  will  teach  you  the  way  to 
the  stars." 


THE    GREAT   NAUDHEIM  143 

Silently,  and  without  a  glance  on  either  side  of  him, 
Naudheim  left  the  room,  amidst  a  silence  which  was  al- 
most an  instinctive  thing  —  the  realization,  perhaps,  of 
the  strange  nature  of  this  man,  who  from  a  stern  sense 
of  duty  had  left  his  hermit's  life  for  a  few  days,  to  speak 
with  his  fellow-workers. 

It  had  been  in  some  respects  a  very  curious  function, 
this.  It  was  neither  meeting  nor  reception.  There  was 
neither  host  nor  hostess,  except  that  Saton  had  shaken 
hands  with  a  few,  and  from  his  place  by  the  side  of 
Naudheim  had  indicated  the  turn  of  those  who  wished 
to  speak.  Their  visitor's  peculiarities  were  well-known 
to.  all  of  them.  He  had  left  them  abruptly,  not  from 
any  sense  of  discourtesy,  but  because  he  had  not  the 
slightest  idea  of,  or  sympathy  with,  the  manners  of  civil- 
ized people.  He  had  given  them  something  to  think 
about.  He  had  no  desire  to  hear  their  criticisms.  After 
he  had  gone,  the  doors  were  held  open.  There  was  no  one 
to  bid  them  stay,  and  so  they  went,  in  little  groups  of 
twos  and  threes,  a  curious,  heterogeneous  crowd,  with 
the  stamp  upon  their  features  or  clothes  or  bearing, 
which  somehow  or  other  is  always  found  upon  those  who 
are  seekers  for  new  things.  Sallow,  dissatisfied-looking 
men ;  women  whose  faces  spoke,  many  of  them,  of  a  joy- 
less life ;  people  of  overtrained  minds  ;  and  here  and  there 
a  strong,  zealous,  brilliant  student  of  the  last  of  the 
sciences  left  for  solution. 

Pauline  would  have  gone  with  the  others,  but  Saton 
touched  her  hand.  Half  unwillingly  she  lingered  behind 
until  they  were  alone  in  the  darkened  room.  He  went  to 


144  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

the  window  and  threw  it  wide  open.  The  scent  of  the 
flowers  in  the  window-boxes  and  a  little  wave  of  the  soft 
west  wind  came  stealing  in.  She  threw  her  head  back 
with  an  exclamation  of  relief. 

"  Ah !  "  she  said.  "  This  is  good." 

"  You  found  the  room  close  ?  "  he  asked. 

Pauline  sank  into  the  window-seat.  She  rested  her 
delicate  oval  face  upon  her  fingers,  and  looked  away  to- 
ward the  deep  green  foliage  of  the  trees  outside. 

"  I  did  not  notice  it,"  she  said,  "  and  yet,  somehow  or 
other  the  whole  atmosphere  seemed  stifling.  Naudheim 
is  great,"  she  went  on.  "  Oh,  he  is  a  great  man,  of 
course.  He  said  wonderful  things  in  a  convincing  way. 
He  made  one  gasp." 

"  This  afternoon,"  Saton  declared  slowly,  "  marks  an 
epoch.  What  Naudheim  said  was  remarkable  because  of 
what  he  left  unsaid.  Couldn't  you  feel  that  ?  Didn't  you 
understand?  If  that  man  had  ambitions,  he  could  startle 
even  this  matter-of-fact  world  of  ours.  He  could  shake 
it  to  its  very  base." 

She  shivered  a  little.  Her  fingers  were  idly  tapping 
the  window-sill.  Her  thoughtful  eyes  were  clouded  with 
trouble.  He  stood  over  her,  absorbed  in  the  charm  of  her 
presence,  the  sensuous  charm  of  watching  her  slim,  ex- 
quisite figure,  the  poise  of  her  head,  the  delicate  color- 
ing of  her  cheeks,  the  tremulous  human  lips,  which  seemed 
somehow  to  humanize  the  spirituality  of  her  expression. 
They  had  talked  so  much  that  day  of  a  new  science. 
Saton  felt  his  heart  sink  as  he  realized  that  he  was  the 
victim  of  a  greater  thing  than  science  could  teach.  It 


THE    GREAT   NAUDHEIM  145 

was  madness !  —  sheer,  irredeemable  madness  !  But  it  was 
in  his  blood.  It  was  there  to  be  reckoned  with. 

"  It  is  all  very  wonderful,"  she  continued  thought- 
fully. "  And  yet,  can  you  understand  what  I  mean  when 
I  say  that  it  makes  me  feel  a  trifle  hysterical?  It  is  as 
though  something  had  been  poured  into  one  which  was 
too  great,  too  much  for  our  capacity.  It  is  all  true,  I 
believe,  but  I  don't  want  it  to  come." 

"Why  not?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh !  It  seems  somehow,"  she  answered,  "  as  though 
the  whole  balance  of  life  would  be  disturbed.  Of  course, 
I  know  that  it  is  feasible  enough.  For  thousands  of 
years  men  and  women  lived  upon  the  earth,  and  never 
dreamed  that  all  around  them  existed  a  great  force  which 
only  needed  a  little  humoring,  a  little  understanding,  to 
do  the  work  of  all  the  world.  Oh,  it  is  easy  to  under- 
stand that  we  too  carry  with  us  some  psychical  force  cor- 
responding to  this!  One  feels  it  so  often.  Premonitions 
come  and  go.  We  can't  tell  why,  but  they  are  there,  and 
they  are  true.  One  feels  that  sense  at  work  at  strange 
times.  Experiments  have  already  shown  us  that  it  exists. 
But  I  wonder  what  sort  of  a  place  the  world  will  be 
when  once  it  has  yielded  itself  to  law." 

"  There  has  never  been  a  time,"  Saton  said  thought- 
fully, "  when  knowledge  has  not  been  for  the  good  of 
man." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said,  "  whether  we  realize  what  is  for 
our  good.  Knowledge,  development,  culture,  may  reach 
their  zenith  and  pass  beyond.  We  may  become  debauched 


146  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

with  the  surfeit  of  these  things.  The  end  and  aim  of  life 
is  happiness." 

"  The  end  and  aim  of  life,"  he  contradicted  her,  "  is 
knowledge." 

She  laughed. 

"  I  am  a  woman,  you  see,"  she  said  thoughtfully. 

"  And  am  I  not  a  man  ?  "  he  whispered. 

She  turned  her  head  and  looked  at  him.  The  trouble 
in  her  eyes  deepened.  She  felt  the  color  coming  and 
going  in  her  cheeks.  His  eyes  seemed  to  stir  things  in 
her  against  which  her  whole  physical  self  rebelled.  She 
rose  abruptly  to  her  feet. 

"  I  must  go,"  she  said.  "  I  have  a  thousand  things  to 
do  this  evening." 

"  To  play  at,  you  mean,"  he  corrected  her.  "  You 
don't  really  do  very  much,  do  you?  The  women  don't  in 
your  world." 

"  You  are  polite,"  she  answered  lightly.  "  Please  to 
show  me  the  way  out." 

"  In  a  moment,"  he  said. 

She  was  inclined  to  rebel.  They  had  moved  a  little 
from  the  window,  and  were  standing  in  a  darker  part  of 
the  room.  She  felt  his  fingers  upon  her  wrist.  She  would 
have  given  the  world  to  have  been  able  to  wrench  it  away, 
but  she  could  not.  She  stood  there  submissively,  her 
breath  coming  quickly,  her  eyes  compelled  to  meet  his. 

"  Stay  for  a  moment  longer,"  he  begged.  "  I  want 
to  talk  to  you  for  a  little  while  about  this." 

"  There  is  no  time  now,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "  It  is  an 
inexhaustible  subject." 


THE    GREAT    NAUDHEIM  147 

"  Inexhaustible  indeed,"  he  answered,  with  an  enig- 
matic laugh. 

She  read  his  thoughts.  She  knew  very  well  what  was 
in  his  mind,  what  was  almost  on  his  lips,  and  she  strug- 
gled to  be  free  of  him. 

"  Mr.  Saton,"  she  said,  "  I  am  sorry  —  but  you  must 
really  let  me  go." 

He  did  not  move. 

"  It  is  very  hard  to  let  you  go,"  he  murmured.  "  Can't 
you  —  don't  you  realize  a  little  that  it  is  always  hard 
for  me  to  see  you  go  —  to  see  you  leave  the  world  where 
we  have  at  least  interests  in  common,  to  go  back  to  a  life 
of  which  I  know  so  little,  a  life  in  which  I  have  so  small 
a  part,  a  life  which  is  scarcely  worthy  of  you,  Pauline?  '* 

Again  she  felt  a  sort  of  physical  impotence.  She 
struggled  desperately  against  the  loss  of  nerve  power 
which  kept  her  there.  She  would  have  given  anything  in 
the  world  to  have  left  him,  to  have  run  out  of  the  room 
with  a  little  shriek,  out  into  the  streets  and  squares  she 
knew  so  well,  to  breathe  the  air  she  had  known  all  her 
life,  to  escape  from  this  unknown  emotion.  She  told  her- 
self that  she  hated  the  man  whose  will  kept  her  there. 
She  was  sure  of  it.  And  yet  —  ! 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  she  said,  "  and  I  must, 
I  really  must  go.  Can't  you  see  that  just  now,  at  any 
rate,  I  don't  want  to  understand?  "  she  added,  fighting 
all  the  time  for  her  words.  "  I  want  to  go.  Please  do 
not  keep  me  here  against  my  will.  Do  you  understand? 
Let  me  go,  and  I  will  be  grateful  to  you." 

Somehow  the  strain  seemed  suddenly  lightened.  He 


i48  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

was  only  a  very  ordinary,  rather  doubtful  sort  of  person 
—  a  harmless  but  necessary  part  of  interesting  things. 
He  had  moved  toward  the  door,  which  he  was  holding 
open  for  her  to  pass  through. 

"  Thank  you  so  much,"  she  said,  with  genuine  relief 
in  her  tone.  "  I  have  stayed  an  unconscionable  time, 
and  I  found  your  Master  delightful." 

"  You  will  come  again  ?  "  he  said  softly.  "  I  want  to 
explain  a  little  further  what  Naudheim  was  saying.  I 
can  take  you  a  little  further,  even,  than  he  did  to-day." 

"  You  must  come  and  see  me,"  she  answered  lightly. 
"  Remember  that  after  all  the  world  has  conventions." 

He  stepped  back  on  to  the  doorstep  after  he  had 
handed  her  into  her  carriage.  She  threw  herself  back 
amongst  the  cushions  with  something  that  was  like  a  sob 
of  relief.  She  had  sensations  which  she  could  not  an- 
alyze—  a  curious  feeling  of  having  escaped,  and  yet 
coupled  with  it  a  sense  of  something  new  and  strange  in 
her  life,  something  of  which  she  was  a  little  afraid,  and 
yet  from  which  she  would  not  willingly  have  parted. 
She  told  herself  that  she  detested  the  house  which  she 
had  left,  detested  the  thought  of  that  darkened  room. 
Nevertheless,  she  was  forced  to  look  back.  He  was 
standing  in  the  open  doorway,  from  which  the  butler 
had  discreetly  retired,  and  meeting  her  eyes  he  bowed 
once  more.  She  tried  to  smile  unconcernedly,  but  failed. 
She  looked  away  with  scarcely  a  return  of  his  greeting. 

"  Home !  "  she  told  the  man.  "  Drive  quickly." 

Almost  before  her  own  door  she  met  Rochester.  The 
sight  of  him  was  somehow  or  other  an  immense  relief 


THE    GREAT   NAUDHEIM  149 

to  her.  She  fell  back  again  in  the  world  which  she  knew. 
She  stopped  the  carriage  and  called  to  him. 

11  Come  and  drive  with  me  a  little  way,"  she  begged. 
"  I  am  stifled.  I  want  some  fresh  air.  I  want  to  talk  to 
you.  Oh,  come,  please !  " 

Rochester  took  the  vacant  seat  by  her^side  at  once. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  asked  gravely.  "  Tell  me.  You 
have  had  bad  news  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  No !  "  she  said.  "  I  am  afraid  —  that  is  all !  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

KOCHESTER'S  ULTIMATUM 

THE  Park  into  which  they  turned  was  almost 
deserted.  Pauline  stopped  the  carriage  and 
got  out. 

"  Come  and  walk  with  me  a  little  way,"  she  said  to 
Rochester.  "  We  will  go  and  sit  amongst  that  wilderness 
of  empty  chairs.  I  want  to  talk.  I  must  talk  to  some- 
one. We  shall  be  quite  alone  there." 

Rochester  walked  by  her  side,  puzzled.  He  had  never 
seen  her  like  this. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  hysterical,"  she  said,  clutching  at  his 
arm  for  a  moment  as  they  passed  along  the  walk. 
"  There,  even  that  does  me  good.  It's  good  to  feel  — 
oh,  I  don't  know  what  I'm  talking  about ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Where  have  you  been  this  afternoon  ?  "  he  asked 
gravely. 

"  To  hear  that  awful  man  Naudheim,"  she  answered. 
"  Henry,  I  wish  I'd  never  been.  I  wish  to  Heaven  you'd 
never  asked  Bertrand  Saton  to  Beauleys." 

Rochester's  face  grew  darker. 

"  I  wish  I'd  wrung  the  fellow's  neck  the  first  day  I 
saw  him,"  he  declared,  bitterly.  "  But  after  all,  Pauline, 
you  don't  take  this  sort  of  person  seriously?  " 


ROCHESTER'S    ULTIMATUM         151 

"  I  wish  I  didn't,"  she  answered. 

"He's  an  infernal  charlatan,"  Rochester  declared. 
"  I'm  convinced  of  it,  and  I  mean  to  expose  him." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  You  can  call  him  what  you  like,"  she  said,  "  but 
there  is  Naudheim  behind  him.  There  is  no  one  in 
Europe  who  would  dare  to  call  Naudheim  a  charlatan." 

"  He  is  a  wonderful  man,  but  he  is  mad,"  Rochester 
said. 

"  No,  he  is  not  mad,"  she  said.  "  It  is  we  who  are 
mad,  to  listen  a  little,  to  think  a  little,  to  play  a  little 
with  the  thoughts  he  gives  us." 

"  I  know  of  Naudheim  only  by  reputation,"  Rochester 
said.  "  And  so  far  as  regards  Saton,  nothing  will  con- 
vince me  that  he  is  not  an  impostor." 

She  sighed. 

"  There  may  be  something  of  the  charlatan  in  his 
methods,"  she  said,  "  but  there  is  something  else.  Henry, 
why  can't  we  be  content  with  the  things  that  we  know 
and  see  and  feel?  " 

He  smiled  bitterly. 

"  I  am,"  he  answered.  "  I  thank  God  that  I  have  none 
of  that  insane  desire  for  probing  and  dissecting  nature 
to  discover  things  which  we  are  not  fit  yet  to  under- 
stand, if,  even,  they  do  exist.  It's  a  sort  of  spiritual 
vivisection,  Pauline,  and  it  can  bring  nothing  but  dis- 
quiet and  unhappiness.  Grant  for  a  moment  that  Naud- 
heim, and  that  even  this  bounder  Saton,  are  honest,  what 
possible  good  can  it  do  you  or  me  to  hang  upon  their 
lips,  to  become  their  disciples?  " 


iS2  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know !  "  she  answered.  "  Yet  it's  hid- 
eously fascinating,  Henry  —  hideously!  And  the  man 
himself  —  Bertrand  Saton.  I  can't  tell  what  there  is 
about  him.  I  only  know " 

She  broke  off  in  the  middle  of  her  sentence.  Rochester 
caught  her  by  the  wrist. 

"  Pauline,"  he  said,  "  for  God's  sake,  don't  tell  me 
that  that  fellow  has  dared  to  make  love  to  you." 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered.  "  Sometimes  I  hate 
the  very  sight  of  him.  Sometimes  I  feel  almost  as  you 
do.  And  at  others,  well,  I  can't  explain  it.  It  isn't  any 
use  trying." 

"  Pauline,"  he  said,  "  you  see  for  yourself  the  state 
to  which  you  have  been  reduced  this  afternoon.  Tell  me, 
is  there  happiness  in  being  associated  with  any  science 
or  any  form  of  knowledge  the  study  of  which  upsets 
you  so  completely?  There  are  better  things  in  life. 
Forget  this  wretched  little  man,  and  his  melodramatic 
talk." 

"  If  only  I  could !  "  she  murmured. 

They  sat  side  by  side  in  silence.  Strong  man  though 
he  was,  Rochester  was  struggling  fiercely  with  the  wave 
of  passionate  anger  which  had  swept  in  upon  him.  For 
years  he  had  treated  this  woman  as  his  dearest  friend. 
The  love  which  was  a  part  of  his  life  lay  deep  down  in 
his  heart,  a  thing  with  the  seal  of  silence  set  upon  it, 
zealously  treasured,  in  its  very  voicelessness  a  splendid 
oblation  to  the  man's  chivalry.  And  now  this  unmen- 
tionable creature,  this  Frankenstein  of  his  own  creation, 
the  boy  whom  he  had  pitchforked  into  life,  had  dared  to 


ROCHESTER'S    ULTIMATUM          153 

be  guilty  of  this  unspeakable  sacrilege.  It  was  hard, 
indeed,  for  Rochester  to  maintain  his  self-control. 

"  Pauline,"  he  said,  "  I  cannot  stand  by  and  see  your 
life  wrecked.  You  are  too  sane,  too  reasonable  a  woman 
to  become  the  prey  of  such  a  pitiful  adventurer.  Won't 
you  listen  to  me  for  a  moment?  " 

"  Indeed  I  am  listening,"  she  faltered. 

"  Give  yourself  a  chance,"  he  begged.  "  Leave  Eng- 
land this  week  —  to-morrow,  if  you  can.  Go  right  away 
from  here.  You  have  friends  in  Rome.  I  heard  your 
cousin  ask  you  not  long  ago  to  pay  her  a  visit  at  her 
villa  on  the  Adriatic.  Start  to-morrow,  and  I  promise 
that  you  will  come  back  a  sane  woman.  You  will  be  able 
to  laugh  at  Saton,  to  see  through  the  fellow,  and  to 
realise  what  a  tissue  of  shams  he's  built  of.  You  will 
be  able  to  feel  a  reasonable  interest  in  anything  Naud- 
heim  has  to  say.  Just  now  you  are  unnerved,  these  men 
have  frightened  you.  Believe  me  that  your  greatest  and 
most  effectual  safety  lies  in  flight." 

A  sudden  hope  lit  up  her  face.  She  turned  towards 
him  eagerly.  She  was  going  to  consent  —  he  felt  it,  he 
was  almost  conscious  of  the  words  trembling  upon  her 
lips.  Already  his  own  personal  regrets  at  her  absence 
were  beginning  to  cloud  his  joy.  Then  her  whole  ex- 
pression changed.  Something  of  the  look  settled  upon 
her  features  which  he  had  seen  when  first  she  had 
stopped  the  carriage.  Her  lips  were  parted,  her  eyes 
distended.  She  looked  nervously  around  as  though  she 
were  afraid  that  some  one  was  following  them. 

"  I  cannot  do  that,  Henry,"  she  said.  "  In  a  way  it 


154  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

would  be  a  relief,  but  it  is  impossible.  I  cannot,  in- 
deed." 

She  led  the  way  to  the  carriage.  They  walked  in  ab- 
solute silence  for  nearly  a  minute.  He  felt  that  he  had 
lost  a  great  part  of  his  influence  over  her  and  he  was 
bitter. 

"  Tell  me  why  you  almost  consented,"  he  asked,  ab- 
ruptly, "  and  then  changed  your  mind  ?  In  your  heart 
you  must  know  that  it  is  for  your  good." 

"  I  only  know,"  she  answered,  slowly,  "  that  at  first 
I  longed  to  say  yes,  and  now,  when  I  come  to  think  of 
it,  I  see  that  it  is  impossible." 

"  You  are  going  to  allow  yourself,  then,  to  be  the 
prey  of  these  morbid  fancies?  You  are  going  to  treat 
this  creature  as  a  human  being  of  your  own  order? 
You  are  going  to  let  him  work  upon  your  imagina- 
tion?" 

"  It  is  no  use,"  she  said  wearily.  "  For  the  present,  I 
cannot  talk  any  more  about  it.  I  do  not  understand  my- 
self at  all." 

They  stood  for  a  moment  by  the  carriage. 

"  We  shall  meet  to-night,"  he  reminded  her. 

She  gave  him  a  doubtful  little  smile. 

"You  are  really  coming  to  the  Wintertons?"  she 
asked. 

"  I  have  promised,"  he  answered.  "  Caroline  has 
bribed  me.  I  am  going  to  take  you  in  to  dinner." 

"  Will  you  drive  home  with  me  now?  "  she  asked. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I  have  another  call  to  make,"  he  said,  a  little  grimly. 


ROCHESTER'S   ULTIMATUM         155 

Saton  was  still  in  the  half  darkened  library,  sitting 
with  his  back  turned  to  the  light,  and  his  eyes  fixed  with 
a  curious  stare  into  vacancy,  when  the  door  opened,  and 
Rochester  entered  unannounced.  Saton  rose  at  once  to 
his  feet,  but  the  interrogative  words  died  away  upon  his 
lips.  Rochester's  fair,  sunburnt  face  was  grim  with 
angry  purpose.  He  had  the  air  of  a  man  stirred  to  the 
very  depths.  He  came  only  a  little  way  into  the  room, 
and  he  took  up  his  position  with  his  back  to  the  door. 

"  My  young  friend,"  he  said,  "  it  is  not  many  hours 
since  you  and  I  came  to  an  understanding  of  a  sort.  I 
am  here  to  add  a  few  words  to  it." 

Saton  said  nothing.  He  stood  immovable,  waiting. 

"  Whatever  your  game  in  life  may  be,"  Rochester  con- 
tinued, "  you  can  play  it,  for  all  I  care,  to  the  end.  But 
there  is  one  thing  which  I  forbid.  I  have  come  here  so 
that  you  shall  understand  that  I  forbid  it.  You  can 
make  fools  of  the  whole  world,  you  can  have  them  kneel- 
ing at  your  feet  to  listen  to  your  infernal  nonsense  — 
the  whole  world  save  one  woman.  I  am  ashamed  to  men- 
tion her  name  in  your  presence,  but  you  know  whom  I 
mean." 

Saton's  lips  seemed  to  move  for  a  moment,  but  he  still 
remained  silent. 

"  Very  well,"  Rochester  said.  "  There  shall  be  no  ex- 
cuse, no  misunderstanding.  The  woman  with  whom  I  for- 
bid you  to  have  anything  whatever  to  do,  whom  I  order 
you  to  treat  from  this  time  forward  as  a  stranger,  is 
Pauline  Marrabel." 

Saton  was  still  in  no  hurry  to  speak.  He  leaned  a  lit- 


156  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

tie  forward.  His  eyes  seemed  to  burn  as  though  touched 
with  some  inward  fire. 

"  By  what  right,"  he  asked,  "  do  you  come  here  and 
dictate  to  me?  You  are  not  my  father  or  my  guardian. 
I  do  not  recognize  your  right  to  speak  to  me  as  one 
having  authority." 

"  It  was  I  who  turned  you  loose  upon  the  world," 
Rochester  answered.  "  I  deserve  hanging  for  it." 

"  I  should  be  sorry,"  Saton  said  coldly,  "  to  deprive 
you  of  your  deserts." 

"  You  have  learned  many  things  since  those  days," 
Rochester  declared.  "  You  have  acquired  the  knack  of 
glib  speech.  You  have  become  a  past  master  in  the  arts 
which  go  to  the  ensnaring  of  over-imaginative  women. 
You  have  mixed  with  quack  spiritualists  and  self-styled 
professors  of  what  they  term  occultism.  Go  and  practise 
your  arts  where  you  will,  but  remember  what  I  have  told 
you.  Remember  the  person's  name  which  I  have  men- 
tioned. Remember  it,  obey  what  I  have  said,  and  you 
may  fool  the  whole  world.  Forget  it,  and  I  am  your 
enemy.  Understand  that." 

"  And  you,"  Saton  answered  with  darkening  face, 
"  understand  this  from  me,  Rochester.  I  do  not  for  a 
moment  admit  your  right  to  speak  to  me  in  this  fashion. 
I  admit  no  obligation  to  you.  We  are  simply  man  and 
man  in  the  world  together,  and  the  words  which  you 
have  spoken  have  no  weight  with  me  whatever." 

"  You  defy  me?  "  Rochester  asked  calmly. 

"  If  you  call  that  defiance,  I  do,"  Saton  answered. 

Rochester  came  a  step  further  into  the  room. 


ROCHESTER'S    ULTIMATUM          157 

"  Listen,  my  young  friend,"  he  said.  "  You  belong  to 
the  modern  condition  of  things,  to  the  world  which  has 
become  just  a  little  over-civilized.  You  may  call  me  a 
boor,  if  you  like,  but  I  want  you  to  understand  this.  If 
I  fail  to  unmask  you  by  any  other  means,  I  shall  revert 
to  the  primeval  way  of  deciding  such  differences  as  lie 
between  you  and  me,  the  differences  which  make  for  hate. 
I  can  wield  a  horse-whip  with  the  strongest  man  living, 
and  I  am  in  deadly  earnest." 

"  The  lady  whose  name  you  have  mentioned,"  Saton 
said  softly — "is  she  also  your  ward?  You  are  re- 
lated to  her,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  She  is  the  woman  I  love,"  Rochester  answered.  "  Our 
ways  through  life  may  lie  apart,  or  fate  may  bring  them 
together.  That  is  not  your  business  or  your  concern. 
When  I  tell  you  that  she  is  the  woman  I  love,  I  mean 
you  to  understand  that  she  is  the  woman  whom  I  will 
protect  against  all  manner  of  evil,  now  and  always.  Re- 
member that  if  you  disregard  my  warning,  in  the  spirit 
or  in  the  letter,  so  surely  as  we  two  live  you  will  repent 
it." 

Saton  crossed  the  room  with  noiseless  footsteps.  He 
leaned  toward  the  wall  and  touched  an  electric  bell. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said.  "  You  have  come  to  deliver  an 
ultimatum,  and  I  have  received  it.  I  understand  perfectly 
what  you  will  accept  as  an  act  of  war.  There  is  nothing 
more  to  be  said,  I  think?  " 

"  Nothing,"  Rochester  answered,  turning  to  follow  the 
servant  whom  Saton's  summons  had  brought  to  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

TROUBLE    BREWING 

SATON  turned  out  of  Bond  Street,  and  climbed 
the  stairs  of  a  little  tea-shop  with  the  depressed 
feeling  of  a  man  who  is  expiating  an  offence 
which  he  bitterly  repents.  Violet  was  waiting  for  him 
at  one  of  the  tables  shut  off  from  the  main  room  by  a 
sort  of  Japanese  matting  hanging  from  the  ceiling.  He 
resigned  his  stick  and  hat  with  a  sigh  to  one  of  the  trim 
waitresses,  and  sat  down  opposite  her. 

"  My  dear  Violet,"  he  said,  "  this  is  an  unexpected 
pleasure.  I  thought  that  Wednesday  was  quite  one  of 
your  busiest  days." 

"  It  is  generally,"  she  answered.  "  To  tell  you  the 
truth,"  she  added,  leaning  across  the  table,  "  I  was  jolly 
glad  to  get  away.  I  have  a  kind  of  fear,  Bertrand,  that 
we  are  going  to  be  a  little  too  busy." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

She  nodded  her  head  mysteriously. 

"  There  have  been  one  or  two  people  in,  in  the  last  few 
days,  asking  questions  which  I  don't  understand,"  she 
told  him.  "  One  of  them,  I  am  pretty  sure,  was  a  de- 
tective. He  didn't  get  much  change  out  of  me,"  she 
added,  in  a  self-satisfied  tone,  "  but  there's  someone  got 
their  knife  into  us.  You  remember  the  trouble  down  in 
the  Marylebone  Road,  when  you " 


TROUBLE    BREWING  159 

"  Don't ! "  he  interrupted.  "  I  hate  to  think  of  that 
time." 

"  Well,  I  tell  you  I  believe  there  is  something  of  the 
sort  brewing  again,"  the  woman  said.  "  I'll  tell  you  more 
about  it  later  on." 

The  waitress  brought  their  tea,  which  Violet  carefully 
prepared. 

"  Two  pieces  of  sugar,"  she  said,  "  and  no  cream. 
You  see  I  haven't  forgotten,  although  it  is  not  often  we 
have  tea  together  now,  Bertrand.  You  are  becoming  too 
fashionable,  I  suppose,"  she  added  with  a  little  frown. 

"  You  know  it  isn't  that,"  he  answered  hastily.  "  It's 
my  work,  nothing  but  my  work.  Go  on  with  what  you 
were  telling  me,  Violet." 

"  You  needn't  look  so  scared,"  she  said,  glancing 
round  to  be  sure  that  they  were  not  overheard.  "  The 
only  thing  is  that  Madame  must  be  told  at  once,  and  we 
shall  all  have  to  be  careful  for  a  little  time.  I  shut  up 
shop  for  the  day  as  soon  as  I  tumbled  to  the  thing." 

"  I  wonder  if  this  is  Rochester's  doings,"  he  muttered. 

"  The  husband  of  the  lady  ?  "  Violet  enquired. 

Saton  nodded. 

"  He  is  my  enemy,"  he  said.  "  Nothing  would  make 
him  happier  than  to  have  the  power  to  strike  a  blow  like 
this,  and  to  identify  us  with  the  place  in  any  way." 

"  I  don't  see  how  they  could  do  that,"  she  said  med- 
itatively. "  I  should  be  the  poor  sufferer,  I  suppose,  and 
you  may  be  sure  I  shouldn't  be  like  that  other  girl,  who 
gave  you  away.  You  are  not  afraid  of  that,  are  you, 
Bertrand?  Things  are  different  between  us.  We  are  en- 


160  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

gaged  to  be  married.  You  do  not  forget  that,  Ber- 
trand?" 

"  Of  course  I  do  not,"  he  answered. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  we  won't  talk  about  the  past. 
You  are  safe  so  far  as  I  am  concerned  —  for  the  pres- 
ent, at  any  rate.  But  Madame  must  know,  and  your 
friends  in  Charing  Cross  Road." 

"  We  will  close  the  office  to-morrow  for  a  little  time," 
Saton  declared.  "  It's  no  use  running  risks  like  this." 

"  The  old  lady  must  have  made  a  tidy  pile  out  of  it," 
Violet  declared,  flourishing  an  over-scented  handkerchief. 
"  If  she  takes  my  advice,  she  will  go  quiet  for  a  little 
time.  I  can  feel  trouble  when  it's  about,  and  I  have  felt 
it  the  last  few  days." 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you,  Violet,  to  have  sent  for  me 
at  once,"  he  said.  "  I  know  you  won't  mind  if  I  hurry 
away.  It  is  very  important  that  I  see  Madame." 

"  Of  course,"  she  agreed.  "  But  when  will  you  take  me 
out  to  dinner?  To-night  or  to-morrow  night?  " 

"  To-morrow  night,"  he  promised,  eager  to  escape. 
"  If  anything  happens  that  I  can't,  I'll  let  you  know." 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm  as  they  descended  the 
stairs. 

"  Bertrand,"  she  said,  "  if  I  were  you,  I'd  make  it  to- 
morrow night.  .  .  ." 

He  called  a  taximeter  cab,  and  drove  rapidly  to  Berke- 
ley Square.  In  the  room  where  she  usually  sat  he  found 
Rachael.  looking  through  a  pile  of  foreign  newspapers. 

"  Well?  "  she  said,  peering  into  his  face.  "  You  have 
bad  news.  I  can  see  that.  What  is  it?  " 


TROUBLE    BREWING  161 

"  Helga  has  just  sent  for  me,"  he  answered.  "  She 
says  that  she  has  had  one  or  two  mysterious  visitors  to- 
day and  yesterday.  One  of  them  she  feels  sure  was  a  de- 
tective." 

"  Huntley  has  just  telephoned  up,"  Rachael  said 
calmly.  "  Something  of  the  same  sort  of  thing  happened 
at  the  office  in  the  Charing  Cross  Road.  Huntley  acted 
like  a  man  of  sense.  He  closed  it  up  at  once,  destroyed 
all  papers,  and  sent  Dorrington  over  to  Paris  by  the 
morning  train." 

Saton  sat  down,  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"  Rachael,"  he  said,  "  this  must  stop.  I  cannot  bear 
the  anxiety  of  it.  It  is  terrible  to  feel  to-day  that  one  is 
stretching  out  toward  the  great  things,  and  to-morrow 
that  one  is  finding  the  money  to  live  by  fooling  people, 
by  charlatanism,  by  roguery.  Think  if  we  were  ever 
connected  with  these  places,  if  even  a  suspicion  of  it  got 
about !  Think  how  narrow  our  escape  was  before !  Re- 
member that  I  have  even  stood  in  the  prisoner's  dock, 
and  escaped  only  through  your  cleverness,  and  an  acci- 
dent. It  might  happen  again,  Rachael !  " 

"  It  shall  not,"  she  answered.  "  I  would  go  there  my- 
self first.  It  is  well  for  you  to  talk,  Bertrand,  but  you 
and  I  are  neither  of  us  fond  of  simple  things.  We  must 
live.  We  must  have  money." 

"  We  live  extravagantly,"  he  said. 

"  All  my  life  I  have  lived  extravagantly,"  she  an- 
swered. "Why  should  I  change  now?  I  have  but  a 
few  years  to  live.  I  cannot  bear  small  rooms,  or  cheap 
servants,  or  bad  cooking." 


162  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  We  have  some  money  left,"  he  said.  "  Come  with  me 
into  the  country.  We  can  live  there  for  very  little.  Soon 
my  book  will  be  ready.  Then  the  lectures  will  begin. 
There  will  be  money  enough  when  people  begin  to  under- 
stand." 

"  No ! "  she  said.  "  There  is  only  one  way.  I  have 
spoken  of  it  to  you  before.  You  must  marry  that  foolish 
girl  Lois  Champneyes." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  her?  "  he  asked,  looking 
up,  startled. 

"  I  have  made  inquiries,"  Rachael  answered.  "  It  is 
the  usual  thing  in  the  countries  I  know  of.  She  will  be 
of  age  in  a  short  time,  and  she  will  have  one  hundred  and 
seventy  thousand  pounds.  Upon  that  you  can  live  until 
our  time  comes,  and  you  can  afford  to  keep  this  house 
going." 

"  I  do  not  want  to  marry,"  he  said. 

Her  hand  shot  out  towards  him  —  an  accusing  hand ; 
her  eyes  flashed  fire  as  she  leaned  forward,  gripping  the 
arm  of  the  chair  with  her  other  fingers. 

"  Listen,"  she  said,  "  I  took  you  from  the  gutter.  I 
saved  you  from  starvation.  I  showed  you  the  way  to 
ease  and  luxury.  I  taught  you  things  which  have  set 
your  brain  working,  which  shall  fashion  for  you,  if  you 
dare  to  follow  it,  the  way  to  greatness.  I  saved  your 
life.  I  planted  your  feet  upon  the  earth.  Your  life  is 
mine.  Your  future  is  mine.  What  is  this  sacrifice  that 
I  demand?  Nothing!  Don't  refuse  me.  I  warn  you, 
Bertrand,  don't  refuse  me !  There  are  limits  to  my  pa- 
tience as  there  are  limits  to  my  generosity  and  my  affec- 


TROUBLE   BREWING  163 

tion.  If  you  refuse,  it  can  be  but  for  one  reason,  and 
that  reason  you  will  not  dare  to  tell  me.  Do  you  refuse? 
Answer  me,  now,  I  will  have  no  more  evasions." 

"  She  would  not  marry  me,"  he  said.  "  I  have  not  seen 
her  for  days." 

"  Where  is  she  ?  "  Rachael  demanded. 

"  In  the  country,  at  Beauleys,"  he  answered.  "  The 
Rochesters  have  all  left  town  yesterday  or  to-day,  and 
she  went  with  them." 

"  Then  into  the  country  we  go,"  she  declared.  "  It  is 
an  opportune  time,  too.  We  shall  be  out  of  the  way  if 
troubles  come  from  these  interfering  people.  I  do  not 
ask  you  again,  Bertrand,  whether  you  will  or  will  not 
marry  this  girl.  For  the  first  time  I  exercise  my  rights 
over  you.  I  demand  that  you  marry  her.  Be  as  faith- 
less as  you  like.  You  are  as  fickle  as  a  man  can  be,  and 
as  shallow.  Make  love  to  her  for  a  year,  and  treat  her  as 
these  Englishmen  treat  their  housekeepers,  if  you  will. 
But  marry  her  you  must !  It  is  the  money  we  need  — 
the  money  !  What  is  that?  " 

The  bell  was  ringing  from  a  telephone  instrument 
upon  the  table.  Saton  lifted  it  to  his  ear. 

"  There  is  a  trunk  call  for  you,"  a  voice  said.  "  Please 
hold  the  line." 

Saton  waited.  Soon  a  familiar  voice  came. 

"Who  is  that?"  it  asked. 

"  Bertrand  Saton,"  Saton  answered. 

"  Listen,"  the  voice  said.  "  I  am  Huntley.  I  speak 
from  Folkestone.  I  am  crossing  to-night  to  Paris.  Dor- 
rington  is  already  on  ahead.  Someone  has  been  employ- 


164  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

ing  detectives  to  track  us  down.  It  commenced  with  that 
letter  —  the  one  for  which  you  settled  terms  yourself. 
You  hear?  " 

"  I  hear,"  Saton  answered.  "  Was  it  necessary  for 
you,  too,  to  go  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  Huntley  answered.  "  All  I  know  is 
that  I  have  done  pretty -well  the  last  two  years,  and  I  am 
not  inclined  to  figure  in  the  police  courts.  If  the  thing 
blows  over,  I'll  be  back  in  a  few  weeks.  Every  paper  of 
importance  has  been  destroyed.  I  believe  that  you  and 
Madame  are  perfectly  safe.  At  the  same  time,  take  my 
tip.  Go  slow !  I'm  off.  I've  only  a  minute  for  the  boat." 

Saton  laid  down  the  receiver  on  the  instrument. 

"  If  it  must  be,"  he  said,  turning  to  Rachael,  "  I  will 
go  down  to  Blackbird's  Nest  to-morrow." 


CHAPTER  XX 

FIRST    BLOOD 

LOIS  came  walking  down  the  green  path  that  led 
to  the  wood,  her  head  a  little  tilted  back  to  watch 
the  delicate  tracery  of  the  green  leaves  against 
the  sky,  her  thoughts  apparently  far  away.  Suddenly 
she  came  to  a  standstill,  the  color  rushed  into  her 
cheeks,  her  eyes  danced  with  pleasure.  Saton  had  come 
suddenly  round  the  corner,  and  was  already  within  a  few 
feet  of  her. 

"  You  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Really  you  ?  I  had  no  idea 
that  you  had  left  London." 

He  smiled  as  he  took  her  hands. 

"  London  was  a  desert,"  he  said.  "  I  have  finished  my 
work  for  a  few  days,  and  I  have  brought  my  writing 
down  here." 

"When  did  you  come?"  she  asked. 

"  Last  night,"  he  answered.  "  I  was  just  wondering 
how  I  could  send  a  note  up  to  you.  Fortunately,  I  re- 
membered your  favorite  walk." 

"  Did  you  really  come  to  see  me?  "  she  murmured. 

He  laughed  softly,  and  bent  towards  her.  All  her 
hesitation  and  mistrust  seemed  to  pass  away.  She  lay 
quietly  in  his  arms,  with  her  face  upturned  to  his.  He 
kissed  her  on  the  lips.  All  the  time  his  eyes  were  watch- 
ing the  path  along  which  he  had  come. 


166  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  Let  us  sit  down,"  she  said  at  last,  gently  disengag- 
ing herself  from  him.  "  There  are  so  many  things  I 
want  to  ask  you." 

"  And  I  too,"  he  answered.  "  I  have  something  to  say 
• —  something  I  canno't  keep  to  myself  any  longer." 

He  led  the  way  to  a  fallen  tree,  a  little  removed  from 
the  footpath.  They  were  scarcely  seated,  however,  be- 
fore he  turned  his  head  sharply  in  the  direction  from 
which  he  had  come.  His  whole  frame  seemed  to  have  be- 
come suddenly  rigid  with  an  intense  effort  of  listening. 
He  raised  his  finger  with  a  warning  gesture. 

"  Sit  still,"  he  whispered.  "  Don't  say  anything. 
There  is  someone  coming." 

Her  hand  fell  upon  his.  They  sat  side  by  side  in  an 
almost  breathless  silence,  safely  screened  from  observa- 
tion unless  the  passers-by,  whoever  they  might  be, 
should  be  unusually  curious. 

It  was  Pauline  and  Rochester  who  came  —  Pauline  in 
a  tailor-made  gown  of  dark  green  cloth  —  Pauline,  slim, 
tall  and  elegant.  Rochester  was  bending  toward  her, 
talking  earnestly.  He  wore  a  tweed  shooting  suit,  and 
carried  a  gun  under  either  arm. 

"  You  see  who  it  is  ?  "  Lois  whispered. 

Saton  nodded.  His  face  had  darkened,  his  cheeks  were 
almost  livid.  His  eyes  followed  the  two  with  an  ex- 
pression which  terrified  the  girl  who  sat  by  his  side. 

"  Bertrand,"  she  whispered,  "  why  do  you  look  like 
that?" 

"  Like  what  ?  "  he  asked,  without  moving  his  eyes  from 
the  spot  where  those  two  figures  had  disappeared. 


FIRST   BLOOD  167 

She  shivered  a  little. 

"  You  looked  as  though  you  hated  Mr.  Rochester. 
You  looked  angry  —  more  than  angry.  You  frightened 
me." 

"  I  do  hate  him,"  Saton  answered  slowly.  "  I  hate  him 
as  he  hates  me.  We  are  enemies." 

"  Yet  you  were  not  looking  at  him  all  the  time,"  she 
persisted.  "  You  looked  at  Pauline,  too.  You  don't  hate 
her,  do  you  ?  " 

He  drew  a  little  breath  between  his  clenched  teeth.  If 
only  this  child  would  hold  her  peace ! 

"  No !  "  he  said.  "  I  do  not  hate  Lady  Marrabel." 

"  Is  it  because  he  has  interfered  between  us,"  she  asked 
timidly,  "that  you  dislike  Mr.  Rochester  so  much?  Re- 
member that  very  soon  I  shall  be  of  age." 

"  He  has  no  right  to  interfere  in  my  concerns  at  all," 
Saton  answered,  evasively.  "  Hush  !  " 

The  two  had  halted  at  a  little  wooden  gate  which  led 
into  the  strip  of  field  dividing  the  two  plantations. 
Rochester  was  looking  back  along  the  footpath  by  which 
they  had  come.  They  could  hear  his  voice  distinctly. 

"  Johnson  must  have  got  lost,"  he  remarked,  a  little 
impatiently.  "  I  will  leave  my  second  gun  here  for  him. 
It  is  quite  time  I  took  up  my  place.  The  beaters  will  be 
in  the  wood  directly." 

He  leaned  one  of  the  guns  against  the  stone  wall,  and 
with  the  other  under  his  arm,  opened  the  gate  for  Pau- 
line to  pass  through.  They  crossed  the  field  diagonally, 
and  came  to  a  standstill  at  a  spot  marked  by  a  tiny  flag. 

All  the  time  Saton  watched  them  with  fascinated  eyes.. 


168  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

The  thoughts  were  rushing  through  his  brain.  He  turned 
to  Lois. 

"  Dear,"  he  said,  "  I  think  that  you  had  better  run 
along  home.  I  will  come  up  to  the  shrubbery  after  din- 
ner, if  you  think  that  you  can  get  out." 

"  But  there  is  no  hurry,"  she  whispered.  "  Can't  we 
sit  here  and  talk  for  a  little  time,  or  go  further  back 
into  the  wood?  I  know  a  most  delightful  little  hiding- 
place  just  at  the  top  of  the  slate  pit  —  an  old  keeper's 
shelter." 

Saton  shook  his  head.    He  avoided  looking  at  her. 

"  The  beaters  are  in  the  other  part  of  the  wood  al- 
ready," he  said.  "  Very  likely  they  will  come  this  way, 
too.  If  they  see  us  together,  they  will  tell  Mr.  Rochester. 
I  don't  want  him  to  know  that  I  am  here  just  yet." 

She  rose  reluctantly. 

"  Dear  me,"  she  said,  sighing,  "  and  I  thought  that 
we  were  going  to  have  such  a  nice  long  talk !  " 

"  We  will  have  it  very  soon,"  he  whispered,  a  little 
unsteadily.  "  We  must,  dear.  Remember  that  I  have  only 
come  down  here  so  that  we  may  see  a  little  more  of  one 
another.  I  will  arrange  it  somehow.  Only  just  now  I 
think  that  you  had  better  run  away  home." 

He  kissed  her,  and  she  turned  reluctantly  away.  She 
stole  through  the  undergrowth  back  into  the  green  path. 
Saton  watched  her  with  fixed  eyes  until  she  had  turned 
the  corner  and  disappeared.  Then  he  seemed  at  once  to 
forget  her  existence.  He  too  rose  to  his  feet,  and  stole 
gently  forward,  moving  very  slowly,  and  stooping  a 
little  so  as  to  remain  out  of  sight.  All  the  time  his  eyes 


FIRST   BLOOD  169 

were  fixed  upon  the  gun,  whose  barrel  was  shining  in  the 
sunlight. 

From  the  other  side  of  the  wood  there  commenced  an 
intermittent  fusilade.  The  shots  were  drawing  nearer  and 
nearer.  Rochester  stood  waiting,  his  gun  held  ready. 
Pauline  had  retreated  round  the  corner  of  the  further 
wood,  beyond  any  possible  line  of  fire. 

Saton  had  reached  the  gate  now,  and  was  within  reach 
of  the  gun  and  the  bag  of  cartridges,  which  were  hang- 
ing by  a  leather  belt  from  the  gate-post.  He  turned  his 
head,  and  looked  stealthily  along  the  path  by  which 
Rochester  had  come.  There  was  no  one  in  sight,  no 
sound  except  the  twittering  of  birds  overhead,  and  the 
rustling  of  the  leaves.  He  sank  on  one  knee,  and  his 
hand  closed  upon  the  gun.  The  blood  surged  to  his  head. 
There  was  a  singing  in  his  ears.  He  felt  his  heart  thump- 
ing as  though  he  were  suddenly  seized  with  some  illness. 
Rochester's  figure,  tall,  graceful,  debonair,  notwithstand- 
ing the  looseness  of  his  shooting  clothes,  and  his  some- 
what rigid  attitude,  seemed  suddenly  to  loom  large  and 
hateful  before  his  eyes.  He  saw  nothing  else.  He 
thought  of  nothing  else.  It  was  the  man  he  hated.  It 
was  the  man  who  understood  what  he  was,  the  worst 
side  of  him  —  the  man  whom  his  instincts  recognised  as 
his  ruthless  and  dangerous  enemy. 

The  rush  of  a  rabbit  through  the  undergrowth, 
startled  him  so  that  he  very  nearly  screamed.  He  looked 
around,  pallid,  terrified.  There  was  no  one  in  sight,  no 
sign  of  any  life  save  animal  and  insect  life  in  the  wood 
behind. 


I7o  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

The  stock  of  the  gun  came  to  his  shoulder.  His  fin- 
gers sought  the  trigger.  Cautiously  he  thrust  it  through 
the  bars  of  the  gate.  Bending  down,  he  took  a  long  and 
deliberate  aim.  The  fates  seemed  to  be  on  his  side. 
Rochester  suddenly  stiffened  into  attention,  his  gun 
came  to  his  shoulder,  as  with  a  loud  whir  a  pheasant 
flew  out  of  the  wood  before  him.  The  two  reports  rang 
out  almost  simultaneously.  The  pheasant  dropped  to 
the  ground  like  a  stone.  Rochester's  arms  went  up  to  the 
skies.  He  gave  a  little  cry  and  fell  over,  a  huddled  heap, 
upon  the  grass. 

Saton,  with  fingers  that  trembled,  tore  out  the  ex- 
ploded cartridge,  seized  another  from  the  bag,  thrust 
it  in,  and  replaced  the  gun  against  the  wall.  His  breath 
was  coming  in  little  sobs.  Trees  and  sky  danced  before  his 
eyes.  Once  he  dared  to  look  —  only  once  —  at  the  spot 
where  Rochester  was  lying.  His  hands  were  outstretched. 
Once  he  half  raised  himself,  and  then  fell  back.  From 
round  the  corner  of  the  wood  came  Pauline.  Saton  heard 
her  cry  —  a  cry  of  agony  it  seemed  to  him.  He  bent 
low,  and  made  his  way  back  into  the  plantation,  plung- 
ing through  the  undergrowth  until  he  reached  a  narrow 
and  little  frequented  footpath.  He  was  deaf  to  all 
sounds,  for  the  thumping  in  his  ears  had  become  now 
like  a  sledge-hammer  beating  upon  an  anvil.  He  was  not 
sure  that  he  saw  anything.  His  feet  fled  over  the  ground 
mechanically.  Only  when  he  reached  the  borders  of  the 
wood,  and  crossed  the  meadow  leading  to  the  main  road, 
he  drew  himself  a  little  more  upright.  He  must  remem- 
ber, he  told  himself  fiercely.  He  must  remember! 


FIRST    BLOOD  171 

He  paused  in  the  middle  of  the  field,  and  looked  back. 
He  was  out  of  sight  now  of  the  scene  of  the  tragedy. 
Nothing  was  to  be  seen  or  heard  but  the  low,  musical 
sounds  of  the  late  summer  afternoon  —  the  beat  of  a 
reaping-machine,  the  humming  of  insects,  the  distant  call 
of  a  pigeon,  the  far-away  bark  of  a  farmhouse  dog.  The 
shooting  had  ceased.  By  this  time  they  must  all  know,  he 
reflected.  He  lit  a  cigarette,  and  inhaled  the  smoke  with- 
out the  slightest  apprehension  of  what  he  was  doing.  He 
took  a  book  from  his  pocket,  held  it  before  him,  and 
glanced  at  the  misty  page  of  verse.  Then  he  made  his 
way  out  on  to  the  highroad,  sauntering  like  a  man  anx- 
ious to  make  the  most  of  the  brilliant  sunshine,  the  clear 
air. 

There  was  no  one  in  sight  anywhere  along  the  white, 
dusty  way.  He  crossed  the  road,  and  opened  another 
gate.  A  few  minutes'  climb,  a  sharp  descent,  and  he  was 
safe  within  the  gate  of  his  own  abode.  He  looked  behind. 
Still  not  a  human  being  in  sight  —  no  sound,  no  note  of 
alarm  in  the  soft,  sunlit  air.  He  set  his  teeth  and  drew  a 
long  breath.  Then  he  closed  the  gate  behind  him,  and 
choosing  the  back  way,  entered  the  house  without  obser- 
vation. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

AFRAID  ! 

SATON  wondered  afterwards  many  times  at  the 
extraordinary  nonchalance  with  which  he  faced 
the  remainder  of  that  terrible  day.  He  wrote  sev- 
eral letters,  and  was  aware  that  he  wrote  them  carefully 
and  well.  He  had  his  usual  evening  bath  and  changed  his 
clothes,  making  perhaps  a  little  more  careful  toilet  even 
than  usual. 

Rachael,  who  was  waiting  for  him  when  he  descended 
to  dinner,  even  remarked  upon  the  lightness  of  his  step. 

"  The  country  suits  you,  Bertrand,"  she  said.  "  It 
suits  you  better  than  it  does  me.  You  walk  like  a  boy, 
and  there  is  color  in  your  cheeks." 

"  The  sun,"  he  muttered.  "  I  always  tan  quickly." 

"  Where  have  you  been  to  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  have  been  walking  with  Miss  Champneyes,"  he  an- 
swered. 

Rachael  nodded. 

"  And  your  friend  at  Beauleys  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a 
little  sneer.  "What  if  he  had  seen  you,  eh?  You  are 
very  brave,  Bertrand,  for  he  is  a  big  man,  and  you  are 
small.  I  do  not  think  that  he  loves  you,  eh?  But  what 
about  the  girl?  " 

A  servant  entered  the  room,  and  Saton  with  relief 


AFRAID!  173 

abandoned  the  conversation.  She  returned  to  it,  how- 
ever, the  moment  they  were  alone. 

"  See  here,  my  son,"  she  said,  "  remember  what  I  have 
always  told  you.  One  can  do  without  anything  in  this 
world  except  money.  We  have  plenty  for  the  moment,  it 
is  true,  but  a  stroke  of  ill-fortune,  and  our  income  might 
well  vanish.  Now  listen,  Bertrand.  Make  sure  of  this 
girl's  money.  She  is  of  age,  and  she  will  marry  you." 

"  Her  guardian  would  never  give  his  consent,"  Saton 
said. 

"  It  is  not  necessary,"  his  companion  answered.  "  I 
have  been  to  Somerset  House.  I  have  seen  the  will.  One 
hundred  thousand  pounds  she  has,  in  her  own  right,  un- 
alienable.  For  the  rest,  let  her  guardian  do  what  he  will 
with  it.  With  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  you  can  rest 
for  a  while.  We  might  even  give  up " 

Saton  struck  the  table  with  his  clenched  fist. 

"  Be  careful,"  he  said.  "  I  hate  to  hear  these  things 
mentioned.  The  windows  are  open,  and  the  walls  are 
thin.  There  might  be  listeners  anywhere." 

Her  withered  lips  drew  back  into  a  smile.  She  was  not 
pleasant  just  then  to  look  upon. 

"  I  forgot,"  she  muttered.  "  We  are  devotees  of  sci- 
ence now  in  earnest.  You  are  right.  We  must  run  no 
risks.  Only  remember,  however  careful  we  are,  you  are 
always  liable  to  —  to  the  same  thing  that  happened  be- 
fore. It  took  a  thousand  pounds  to  get  you  off  then." 

Saton  rose  from  his  seat  impatiently.  He  walked  rest- 
lessly across  the  room. 

"  Don't !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Can't  we  live  without  men- 


174  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

tioning  those  things?  I  am  nervous  to-night.  Hideously 
nervous  !  "  he  added,  under  his  breath. 

He  stood  before  the  open  window,  his  face  set,  his 
eyes  riveted  upon  a  spot  in  the  distance,  where  the  great 
white  front  of  Beauleys  flashed  out  from  amongst  the 
trees.  Its  windows  had  caught  the  dying  sunlight,  and  a 
flood  of  fire  seemed  to  be  burning  along  its  front.  The 
flag  floated  from  the  chimneys.  There  was  no  sign  of 
any  disturbance.  The  quiet  stillness  of  evening  which 
rested  upon  the  landscape,  seemed  everywhere  undis- 
turbed. Yet  Saton,  as  he  looked,  shivered. 

Down  in  the  lane  a  motor-car  rushed  by.  His  eyes  fol- 
lowed it,  fascinated.  It  was  one  of  the  Beauleys  cars, 
and  inside  was  seated  a  tall,  spare  man,  white-faced  and 
serious,  on  whose  knees  rested  a  black  case.  Saton  knew 
in  a  moment  that  it  was  one  of  the  doctors  who  had  been 
summoned  to  Beauleys,  by  telephone  and  telegraph,  from 
all  parts. 

"  You  are  watching  the  house  of  your  patron,"  she 
said,  drily. 

"  Patron  no  longer !  "  Saton  exclaimed,  rolling  him- 
self another  cigarette.  "  We  are  enemies,  declared  ene- 
mies —  so  far  as  he  is  concerned,  at  any  rate." 

"  You  are  a  fool !  "  the  woman  said.  "  He  might  still 
have  been  useful.  You  quarrel  with  people  as  though  it 
were  worth  the  trouble.  To  speak  angry  words  is  the 
most  foolish  thing  I  know." 

Saton  glanced  at  the  clock  upon  the  mantelpiece. 

"  I  am  going  out  for  an  hour,"  he  said. 

"  To  Beauleys  ?  "  she  asked,  mockingly. 


AFRAID!  175 

"  Somewhere  near  there,"  he  answered.  "  Good 
night ! " 

He  strolled  out,  hatless,  and  with  no  covering  over  his 
thin  black  dinner-coat.  He  crossed  the  meadow,  and 
climbed  the  little  range  of  broken,  rocky  hills,  from 
which  one  could  see  down  even  into  the  flower-gardens  of 
Beauleys.  He  could  see  there  no  sign  of  disturbance, 
save  that  there  were  two  motor-cars  before  the  door. 
Slowly  he  made  his  way  to  the  lodge  gates,  and  passing 
through  approached  the  house.  There  were  many  lights 
burning.  A  certain  repressed  air  of  excitement  was  cer- 
tainly visible.  Saton  longed,  yet  dared  not,  to  ask  for 
news  from  the  people  at  the  lodge.  At  any  rate,  the 
blinds  were  still  up,  and  the  doctors  there.  Probably  the 
man  was  alive.  Perhaps,  even,  he  might  recover! 

He  struck  off  from  the  drive,  and  followed  a  narrow 
path,  which  led  at  first  between  two  great  banks  of 
rhododendrons,  and  finally  wound  a  circuitous  way 
through  an  old  and  magnificent  shrubbery.  He  reached 
a  path  whence  he  could  command  a  view  of  the  house, 
and  where  he  was  himself  unseen.  He  looked  at  his 
watch.  He  was  five  minutes  late,  but  as  yet  there  was  no 
sign  of  Lois.  He  composed  himself  to  wait,  watching 
the  birds  come  home  to  roost,  and  the  insects,  whom  the 
heat  had  brought  out  of  the  earth,  crawl  away  into 
oblivion.  The  air  was  sweet  with  the  smell  of  flowers. 
From  a  little  further  afield  came  the  more  pungent  odor 
of  a  fire  of  weeds.  The  great  front  of  the  house,  ablaze 
though  it  was  with  lights,  seemed  almost  deserted.  No 
one  entered  or  issued  from  the  hall  door. 


176  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

Half  an  hour  passed.  There  was  no  sign  of  Lois. 
Then  he  saw  her  come,  very  slowly  —  walking,  as  it 
seemed  to  him,  like  one  afraid  of  the  ground  upon  which 
she  trod.  As  she  came  nearer,  he  saw  that  her  face  was 
ghastly  pale.  Her  eyes,  which  wandered  restlessly  to  the 
right  and  to  the  left,  were  frightened,  dilated.  The  thing 
had  been  a  shock  to  her,  of  course. 

He  stepped  a  little  way  out  from  the  shrubs,  showing 
himself  cautiously.  She  stopped  short  at  the  sight  of 
him. 

"  Lois !  "  he  called  softly. 

She  looked  at  him,  and  a  sudden  wave  of  terror  passed 
across  her  face.  She  made  no  movement  towards  him. 
He  himself  was  wordless,  struck  dumb  by  her  appear- 
ance. She  gave  a  little  cry.  What  the  word  was  that  she 
uttered,  he  could  not  tell.  Then  suddenly  turning  round, 
she  fled  away. 

He  watched  her  with  fascinated  eyes,  watched  her 
feet  fly  over  the  lawns,  watched  her,  without  a  single 
backward  glance,  vanish  at  last  through  the  small  side 
door  from  which  she  had  first  issued.  He  wiped  the 
moisture  from  his  forehead,  and  a  little  sob  broke  from 
his  throat.  The  vision  of  her  face  was  still  before  him. 
He  knew  for  a  certainty  what  it  was  that  had  terrified 
her.  She  had  started  to  keep  her  engagement,  but  she 
was  afraid.  She  was  afraid  of  him.  Something  that  he 
had  done  had  betrayed  him.  She  knew !  His  liberty  — 
perhaps  his  life  —  was  in  this  girl's  hands  ! 

He  crept  out  of  the  shrubbery  and  staggered  down 
the  drive,  making  his  way  homeward  across  the  hills  as 


AFRAID!  177 

swiftly  as  his  uncertain  footsteps  would  take  him.  It 
was  dusk  now,  and  he  met  no  one.  Yet  his  heart  beat  at 
every  sound  —  the  clanking  of  a  chain,  attached  to  the 
fetlock  of  a  wandering  horse,  the  still,  mournful  cry  of 
an  owl  which  floated  out  from  the  plantation,  the  clatter 
of  the  small  stones  which  his  own  feet  dislodged  as  he 
feverishly  climbed  the  rocks.  Above  him,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  road,  towered  the  hill  where  he  had  sat  and 
dreamed  as  a  boy,  where  Rochester  had  come  and  en- 
couraged him  to  prate  of  his  ambitions. 

He  looked  away  from  its  dark  outline  with  a  little 
groan.  Up  on  the  hillside  flashed  the  lights  of  Black- 
bird's Nest.  He  stretched  out  his  hands  and  groped  on- 
wards. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

SATON    REASSERTS    HIMSELF 

ROCHESTER  asked  only  one  question  during 
those  few  days  when  he  lay  between  life  and 
death.  He  opened  his  eyes  suddenly,  and  mo- 
tioned to  the  doctor  to  stoop  down. 

"  Who  shot  me?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  was  an  accident,"  the  doctor  assured  him,  sooth- 
ingly. 

Rochester  said  no  more,  but  his  lips  seemed  to  curl  for 
a  moment  into  the  old  disbelieving  smile.  Then  the  strug- 
gle began.  In  a  week  it  was  over.  A  magnificent  con- 
stitution, and  an  unshattered  nerve,  triumphed.  The 
doctors  one  by  one  took  their  departure.  Their  task 
was  over.  Rochester  would  recover. 

"  Who  shot  me?  " 

The  doctor  had  seen  no  reason  to  keep  silence,  and  this 
question  of  Rochester's  had  created  something  like  a 
sensation  as  it  travelled  backwards  and  forwards. 
Rochester  had  been  shot  in  the  left  side,  in  the  middle  of 
a  field,  where  no  accident  of  his  own  causing  seemed  pos- 
sible. One  barrel  only  of  his  gun  had  been  fired,  and  to 
account  for  that  a  cock  pheasant  lay  dead  within  a  few 
feet  of  him.  The  shooting-party  were  all  old  and  expe- 
rienced sportsmen.  The  gun  which  Rochester  had  left 


SATON   REASSERTS    HIMSELF      179 

leaning  against  the  gate  was  discovered  exactly  as  he  had 
left  it  there,  loaded  in  both  barrels.  There  was  not  the 
ghost  of  a  clue. 

Only  Lois  kept  to  her  room  for  three  days,  until  she 
could  bear  it  no  longer.  Then  she  walked  out  a  little  way 
toward  the  woods,  and  met  Saton.  He  recognised  her 
with  a  shock.  He  himself,  especially  now  it  was  known 
that  Rochester  would  live,  had  rapidly  recovered  from 
the  fit  of  horrors  which  had  seized  him  on  that  night.  It 
was  not  so  with  Lois.  Her  cheeks  were  ghastly  pale,  and 
her  eyes  beringed.  She  walked  like  one  recovering  from  a 
long  illness,  and  when  she  saw  Saton  she  screamed. 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and  noticed  with  swift  compre- 
hension her  first  instinctive  withdrawal. 

"  Bertrand  !  "  she  cried.   "  Oh,  Bertrand !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked,  hoarsely. 

"  You  know  what  I  mean,"  she  answered.  "  I  don't 
want  to  touch  you,  but  I  must  or  I  shall  fall.  Let  me 
take  your  arm.  We  will  go  and  sit  down." 

They  sat  side  by  side  on  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree.  A 
small  stream  rippled  by  at  their  feet.  The  meadow  which 
it  divided  was  dotted  everywhere  with  little  clumps  of 
large  yellow  buttercups.  She  sat  at  a  little  distance  from 
him,  and  she  kept  her  eyes  averted. 

"Bertrand,"  she  murmured,  "what  does  it  mean? 
Tell  me  what  I  saw  that  afternoon.  You  took  up  the 
gun.  Was  it  an  accident  ?  But  no,"  she  added,  "  it  is  ab- 
surd to  ask  that ! " 

"  You  saw  me  ?  "  he  exclaimed  quickly.  "  You  believe 
that  you  saw  me  touch  that  gun  ?  " 


i8o  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

She  nodded. 

"  I  hated  to  go  and  leave  you  there,"  she  said.  "  I 
waited  about  behind  those  thick  blackthorn  trees,  hop- 
ing that  you  might  come  my  way.  I  saw  you  creep  up 
to  the  gun.  I  saw  you  raise  it  to  your  shoulder.  Even 
then  I  had  no  idea  what  you  were  going  to  do.  After- 
wards I  saw  the  smoke  and  the  flash.  I  heard  the  report, 
and  Mr.  Rochester's  cry  as  he  fell.  I  saw  you  slip  a  fresh 
cartridge  into  the  gun,  and  go  stealing  away.  Bertrand, 
I  have  not  slept  since.  Tell  me,  was  it  a  nightmare?  " 

"  It  was  no  nightmare,"  he  answered.  "  I  shot  him, 
and  I  wish  that  he  had  died !  " 

She  looked  at  him  with  horror. 

"  Bertrand,"  she  faltered,  "  you  can't  mean  it !  " 

"  Little  Lois,"  he  answered,  "  I  do.  You  do  not  under- 
stand what  hatred  is.  You  do  not  understand  all  that  it 
may  mean  —  all  that  it  may  cause.  He  is  my  enemy,  that 
man,  and  I  am  his.  It  is  a  duel  between  us,  a  duel  to  the 
death.  The  first  blow  has  been  mine,  and  I  have  failed. 
You  will  see  that  it  will  not  be  long  before  he  strikes 
back." 

"  But  this  is  horrible ! "  she  muttered. 

"  Horrible  to  you,  of  course !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Hatred 
is  a  thing  of  which  you  can  know  nothing.  And  yet  there 
it  is.  People  might  think  that  he  was  my  benefactor.  He 
gave  me  money  to  go  out  and  find  my  level  in  the  world, 
gave  it  to  me  with  the  bitter,  cynical  advice  —  advice 
that  was  almost  a  stipulation  —  that  if  I  failed,  I  ceased 
to  live.  I  did  fail  in  every  honest  thing  I  touched,"  he 
continued,  bitterly.  "  Then  I  tried  a  bold  experiment.  It 


SATON  REASSERTS  HIMSELF   181 

was  the  last  thing  offered,  the  last  wonderful  chance.  I 
took  it,  and  I  won.  Then  I  returned.  I  paid  him  back  the 
money  which  he  had  lent  me  —  I  did  my  best  to  seem 
grateful.  It  was  of  no  use.  He  mistrusted  me  from  the 
first.  In  his  own  house  I  was  the  butt  for  his  scornful 
speeches.  I  was  even  bidden  to  leave.  I  ventured  to  speak 
to  the  woman  with  whom  he  is  slavishly  in  love,  and 
he  came  to  me  like  a  fury.  If  I  had  been  a  hairdresser 
posing  as  a  duke,  he  could  not  have  been  more  violent. 
He  wanted  me  to  promise  never  to  speak  to  her  again  — 
her  or  you.  I  refused.  Then  he  declared  war,  and,  Lois, 
there  are  weak  joints  in  my  armor.  You  see,  I  admit 
it  to  you  —  never  to  him.  When  he  finds  his  way  there, 
he  will  thrust.  That  is  why  I  struck  first." 

She  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"  Ah,  but  I  do  not  understand ! "  she  said.  "  He  is 
very  stern  and  very  quiet,  but  he  is  a  just  man.  I  have 
never  known  him  to  find  fault  where  there  was  none." 

"  There  are  faults  enough  in  my  life,"  Saton  an- 
swered. "  I  have  never  denied  it.  But  I  have  had  to  fight 
with  my  back  to  the  wall.  I  shall  win.  I  am  not  afraid 
of  a  thousand  Mr.  Rochesters.  I  am  gathering  to  my 
hands  —  no,  I  will  not  talk  to  you  about  that !  Lois,  I 
am  more  anxious  about  you  than  Mr.  Rochester.  I  am 
afraid  that  you  will  hate  me  for  always  now." 

"  No ! "  she  said.  "  I  cannot  do  that,  I  cannot  hate 
you.  But  I  do  not  wish  to  see  you  any  more.  As  long 
as  I  live,  I  shall  see  you  kneeling  there,  with  your  finger 
upon  the  trigger  of  that  gun.  I  shall  see  the  flash,  I  shall 
see  him  throw  up  his  hands  and  fall.  It  was  hideous !  " 


182  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

Saton  passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead.  Her  words 
had  touched  his  keen  imagination.  The  horror  of  the 
scene  was  upon  him,  too,  once  more. 

"  Don't !  "  he  begged  —  «  don't !  Lois  !  " 

"Well?"  she  asked. 

"  You  will  not  speak  of  this  to  anyone  ?  " 

"  No !  "  she  answered,  sadly,  leaning  a  little  forward, 
with  her  head  resting  upon  her  clasped  hands.  "  I  don't 
suppose  that  I  shall.  If  he  had  died,  it  would  have  been 
different.  Now  that  he  is  going  to  get  well,  I  suppose  I 
shall  try  to  forget." 

"  To  forget,"  he  murmured,  trying  to  take  her  hand. 

She  drew  it  away  with  a  shiver. 

"  No !  "  she  said.  "  That  is  finished.  I  had  to  see  you. 
I  had  to  talk  to  you.  Go  away,  please.  I  cannot  bear  to 
see  you  any  more.  It  is  too  terrible  —  too  terrible !  " 

A  born  cajoler  of  women,  he  forced  into  play  all  his 
powers.  He  whispered  a  flood  of  words  in  her  ear.  His 
own  voice  shook,  his  eyes  were  soft.  He  pleaded  as  one 
beside  himself.  Lois  —  Lois  whom  he  had  found  so  sen- 
sitive, so  easily  moved,  so  gently  affectionate  —  remained 
like  a  stone.  At  the  end  of  all  his  pleadings  she  simply 
looked  away. 

"  Do  you  mind,"  she  asked,  "  leaving  me  ?  Please ! 
Please ! " 

He  got  up  and  went.  Defeat  was  apparent  enough, 
although  it  was  unexpected.  Lois  stole  back  to  the  house 
—  stole  back  to  her  room  and  locked  the  door. 

Saton  walked  home  across  the  hills,  with  white  face  and 
set  eyes.  He  looked  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left, 


SATON    REASSERTS    HIMSELF      183 

and  when  he  arrived  at  Blackbird's  Nest,  he  walked 
straight  into  the  long,  old-fashioned  room  on  the  ground 
floor,  which  he  called  his  library,  and  where  Rachael  gen- 
erally sat. 

She  was  there,  crouching  over  the  fire,  when  he  en- 
tered, and  looked  around  with  frowning  face. 

"  Bertrand,"  she  said,  "  I  hate  this  country  life.  Even 
the  sunshine  mocks.  There  is  no  warmth  in  it,  and  the 
winds  are  cold.  I  must  have  warmth.  I  shall  stay  here  no 
longer." 

He  threw  a  log  on  to  the  fire,  and  turned  around. 

61  Listen,"  he  said.  "  The  girl  Lois  Champneyes  —  I 
have  lost  my  hold  of  her.  She  knows  something  about 
the  accident  to  Rochester." 

"  Bungler !  "  the  woman  muttered.  "  Go  on.  Tell  me 
how  you  lost  your  power." 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  he  answered.  "  I  was  in  an  unsettled 
mood.  I  think  that  I  was  a  little  afraid.  She  spoke  of 
that  afternoon.  It  all  came  back  to  me.  I  am  sure  that  I 
was  afraid,"  he  added,  passing  his  hand  across  his  fore- 
head. 

She  leaned  toward  him  and  her  eyes  glittered,  hard 
and  bright,  from  their  parchment-like  setting. 

"  Bertrand,"  she  said,  "  you  talk  like  a  coward.  What 
are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  To  bring  her  here,"  he  answered  hoarsely.  "  She  has 
gone  back  to  Beauleys.  She  is  passing  up  through  the 
plantation,  on  her  way  to  the  house,  perhaps,  at  this 
very  moment.  She  wore  white,  and  she  carried  her  hat  in 
her  hand.  There  were  rims  under  her  eyes.  She  walks 


184  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

slowly.  She  is  afraid  —  a  little  hysterical.  You  see 
her?  " 

He  pointed  out  of  the  window.  The  woman  nodded. 

"  Sit  down,"  she  muttered.  "  We  shall  see." 

He  sank  into  a  low  chair,  with  his  face  turned  toward 
the  window.  No  further  words  passed  between  them. 
They  sat  there  till  the  sun  sank  behind  the  hills,  and  the 
dusk  began  to  cast  shadows  over  the  land. 

A  servant  came  and  said  something  about  dinner. 
Rachael  waved  her  away. 

"  In  an  hour,  or  an  hour  and  a  half,"  she  said. 

The  shadows  grew  deeper.  Rachael's  face  seemed  un- 
changed, but  Saton  had  grown  so  pale  that  his  fixed 
eyes  seemed  to  have  become  unnaturally  large.  Some- 
times his  lips  moved,  though  the  sounds  which  he  ut- 
tered never  resolved  themselves  into  speech.  At  last 
Rachael  rose  to  her  feet.  She  pointed  out  of  the  window. 
Saton  gave  a  little  gasp. 

"  She  is  there  ?  "  he  asked,  breathlessly. 

"  She  comes,"  Rachael  answered.  "  See  that  you  do  not 
lose  your  power  again.  I  am  exhausted.  I  am  going  to 
rest." 

She  passed  out  of  the  room.  Saton  went  and  stood 
before  the  low  window.  Slowly,  and  with  hesitating  foot- 
steps, Lois  came  up  the  path,  lifted  the  latch  of  the  lit- 
tle gate,  and  stood  in  the  garden,  close  to  a  tall  group  of 
hollyhocks. 

Saton  went  out  to  her. 

"  You  have  come  to  tell  me  that  you  are  sorry  ?  "  he 
said. 


SATON   REASSERTS    HIMSELF      185 

"  Yes !  "  she  answered. 

"  You  did  not  mean  what  you  said?  " 

"  No ! " 

"  Come  in,"  he  whispered. 

He  laid  his  fingers  upon  her  hand,  and  she  followed 
him  into  the  room.  She  was  very  pale,  and  she  was 
breathing  as  though  she  had  been  running.  He  passed 
his  arm  around  her  waist. 

"  You  are  not  angry  with  me  any  longer?  "  he  whis- 
pered in  her  ear.  "  You  will  kiss  me  ?  " 

"  If  you  wish,"  she  answered. 

He  looked  into  her  eyes  for  a  moment.  Then  he  took 
her  into  his  arms. 

"  Dear  Lois,"  he  whispered,  "  you  must  never  be  so 
unkind  to  me  again." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

AN    UNPLEASANT    ENCOUNTER 

ROCHESTER  and  Pauline  were  driving  through 
the  country  lanes  in  a  small,  old-fashioned  pony 
carriage.  Westward,  the  clouds  were  still  stained 
by  a  brilliant  sunset.  The  air  was  clear  and  brisk,  chill 
with  the  invigorating  freshness  of  the  autumn  evening. 
Already  the  stillness  had  come,  the  stillness  which  is  the 
herald  of  night.  The  laborers  had  deserted  the  fields, 
the  wind  had  dropped,  a  pleasant  smell  of  burning  weeds 
from  a  bonfire  by  the  side  of  the  road  crept  into  the  air. 
The  silence  was  broken  for  a  moment  by  the  cry  of  a 
lonely  bird,  drifting  homewards  on  wings  that  seemed 
almost  motionless. 

Rochester  was  quite  convalescent  now,  and  with  the  aid 
of  a  stick  was  able  to  walk  almost  as  far  as  he  chose. 
Pauline  had  remained  at  Beauleys,  and  her  presence  had 
divested  those  last  few  weeks  of  all  their  irksomeness. 
He  stole  a  glance  at  her  as  she  leaned  back  in  the  car- 
riage. She  was  a  little  pale,  perhaps,  and  her  eyes  were 
thoughtful,  but  the  lines  of  her  mouth  were  soft.  There 
was  no  shadow  of  unhappiness  in  her  face,  none  of  that 
look  which  in  London  had  driven  him  almost  to  madness. 
His  fingers  closed  upon  hers.  They  were  walking  up- 
hill, and  the  pony  took  little  guiding. 


AN    UNPLEASANT    ENCOUNTER       187 

"  You  are  sure,  Pauline,"  he  asked,  "  that  you  are  not 
bored  yet  with  the  country  ?  " 

"  I  am  quite  sure,"  she  answered. 

Something  in  her  tone  puzzled  him.  He  looked  at  her 
again,  long  and  fixedly.  Her  eyes  met  his,  they  answered 
his  unspoken  question. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  said,  "  that  I  should  look  happier. 
I  have  been  content.  I  am  content  still.  I  suppose  it  is  all 
one  ought  to  expect  from  life." 

"  There  are  other  things,"  he  answered,  "  but  not  for 
us,  Pauline  —  not  yet." 

"  Life  is  a  very  perplexing  matter,"  she  declared. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  There  is  no  perplexity  about  it,"  he  declared.  "  Its 
riddle  is  easily  enough  solved.  The  trouble  is  that  the 
fetters  which  bind  us  are  sometimes  beyond  our  power  to 
break." 

"  If  we  were  free,"  she  murmured,  "  you  and  I  know 
very  well  whither  we  should  turn.  And  yet,  Henry,  are 
you  sure,  are  you  quite,  quite  sure  that  there  is  nothing 
in  life  greater  even  than  love?  " 

"  If  there  is,"  he  answered,  "  we  will  go  in  search  of 
it,  hand  in  hand,  you  and  I  together." 

"  Yes,"  she  echoed  simply,  "  we  will  go  in  search  of  it. 
But  first  of  all  we  must  find  someone  to  light  our  torch." 

He  shook  the  reins  a  little  impatiently,  but  they  were 
not  yet  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  the  pony  crawled  on, 
undisturbed. 

"  Dear  Pauline,"  he  said,  "  sometimes  lately  I  fancied 
that  you  have  seemed  a  little  morbid.  I  have  lived  longer 


i88  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

than  you.  I  have  lived  long  enough  to  be  sure  of  one 
thing." 

"And  that  is?"  she  asked. 

"  That  all  real  happiness,"  he  said,  "  even  the  every- 
day forms  of  content,  is  to  be  found  amongst  the  sim- 
ple truths  of  life.  Love  is  the  greatest  of  them.  Look  at 
me,  Pauline.  Don't  you  think  that  even  though  we  live 
our  lives  apart,  don't  you  think  that  to  me  the  world  is 
a  different  place  when  you  are  near?  " 

She  looked  into  his  face  a  little  wistfully.  Then  she 
let  her  hand  rest  on  his. 

"  You  are  so  steadfast,"  she  said  — "  so  strong,  and 
so  certain  of  yourself.  Forgive  me  if  I  seem  a  little  rest- 
less. One  loses  one's  balance  sometimes,  thinking  and 
thinking  and  wondering." 

They  were  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  the  pony  paused. 
Rochester  stepped  out. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  I  will  take  you  for  a  little  walk. 
We  will  leave  Peter  here." 

He  unlocked  a  gate  with  a  key  which  he  took  from  his 
pocket,  and  hand  in  hand  they  ascended  a  steep  path 
which  led  between  a  grove  of  pine  trees.  Out  once  more 
into  the  open,  they  crossed  a  patch  of  green  turf  and 
came  to  another  gate,  set  in  a  stone  wall.  This  also 
Rochester  opened.  A  few  more  yards,  and  they  climbed 
up  to  the  masses  of  tumbled  rock  which  lay  about  on  the 
summit  of  the  hill. 

"  Turn  round,"  he  said.  "  You  have  seen  this  view 
many  a  time  in  the  daylight.  You  can  see  it  now  fading 
away  into  nothingness." 


AN    UNPLEASANT   ENCOUNTER       189 

They  stood  hand  in  hand,  looking  downwards.  Mists 
rose  from  along  the  side  of  the  river,  and  stood  about  in 
the  valleys.  The  lights  began  to  twinkle  here  and  there. 
Afar  off,  like  some  nursery  toy,  they  saw  a  train,  with  its 
line  of  white  smoke,  go  stealing  across  the  shadowy  land- 
scape. 

Rochester's  face  darkened  with  a  sudden  reminiscence. 

"  It  was  here,"  he  said,  "  that  I  first  saw  your  friend 
the  charlatan." 

"  My  friend  ?  "  she  murmured. 

"  More  yours  than  mine,  at  any  rate,"  he  answered. 
"  He  sat  with  his  back  against  that  rock,  and  if  ever 
hunger  was  written  into  a  boy's  face,  it  was  there  in  his 
pale  cheeks,  burning  in  his  eyes." 

"  He  was  very  poor,  then  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  He  was  very  poor,"  Rochester  answered,  "  but  it 
was  not  hunger  for  food,  it  was  hunger  for  life  that  one 
saw  there.  He  had  been  down  at  the  Convalescent  Home, 
recovering  from  some  illness,  and  the  next  day  he  was 
going  back  to  his  work  —  work  which  he  hated,  which 
made  him  part  of  a  machine.  You  know  how  many  mil- 
lions there  are  who  live  and  die  like  that  —  who  must 
always  live  and  die  like  that.  They  are  part  of  the  great 
system  of  the  world,  and  nine-tenths  of  them  are  con- 
tent." 

"  You  set  him  free,"  she  murmured. 

"  I  did,"  Rochester  answered.  "  It  was  a  mistake." 

"  You  cannot  tell,"  she  said.  "  I  know  that  you  mis- 
trust him.  You  are  very,  very  English,  dear  Henry,  and 
you  have  so  little  sympathy  with  those  things  which  you 


igo  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

do  not  understand  —  which  do  come,  perhaps,  a  little 
near  what  you  call  charlatanism.  Still,  though  you  may 
deny  it  as  much  as  you  like,  there  are  many,  many  things 
in  the  world  —  things,  even,  in  connection  with  our  daily 
lives,  which  are  absolutely,  wonderfully  mysterious. 
There  are  new  things  to  be  learned,  Henry.  Bertrand 
Saton  may  be  a  self-deceiver.  He  may  even  deserve  all 
the  hard  things  you  can  say  of  him,  but  there  are  clev- 
erer people  than  you  and  I  who  do  not  think  so." 

"  Dear,"  Rochester  answered,  "  I  did  not  bring  you 
here  to  talk  of  Bertrand  Saton.  To  tell  you  the  truth," 
he  added,  "  I  even  hate  to  hear  his  name  upon  your 
lips." 

There  was  no  time  for  her  to  answer.  From  the 
shadow  of  the  rock  against  which  they  leaned,  he  rose 
with  a  subtle  alertness  which  seemed  somehow  a  little  un- 
canny —  as  though,  indeed,  he  had  risen  from  under  the 
ground  upon  which  they  stood. 

"  I  heard  my  name,"  he  said.  "  Forgive  me  if  I  am 
interrupting  you.  I  had  no  wish  to  play  the  eaves- 
dropper." 

Pauline  took  a  quick  step  backwards.  Even  in  that 
tense  moment  of  surprise,  Rochester  found  himself  able 
to  notice  the  color  fading  from  her  cheeks.  He  turned 
upon  the  newcomer,  and  there  was  something  like  fury 
in  his  tone. 

"  What  the  devil  are  you  doing  here,  Saton  ?  "  he 
asked. 

Saton's  tone  was  almost  apologetic. 

"  I  did  not  know,"  he  said,  "  that  I  was  forbidden  to 


AN    UNPLEASANT    ENCOUNTER       191 

walk  upon  your  lands.  I  am  often  here,  and  this  is  my 
favorite  hour." 

Rochester  laughed,  a  little  harshly. 

*6  You  like  to  come  back,"  he  said.  "  You  like  to  sit 
here,  perhaps,  and  think.  Well,  I  do  not  envy  you.  You 
sat  here  and  thought,  years  ago.  You  built  a  house  of 
dreams  here,  unless  you  lied.  You  come  here  now,  per- 
haps, to  compare  it  with  the  house  of  gewgaws  which 
you  have  built,  and  in  which  you  dwell." 

Saton  did  not  for  a  moment  shrink.  In  his  heart  he 
felt  that  it  was  one  of  his  inspired  moments.  There  was 
confidence  alike  in  his  bearing  and  in  his  gentle  reply. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Why  should  you  take  it  for 
granted  that  there  is  so  much  amiss  in  my  life,  that  I 
have  fallen  so  far  away  from  those  dreams?  It  may  not 
be  so,"  he  continued.  "  Remember  that  the  man  who 
lives,  and  comes  a  little  nearer  toward  knowledge,  has 
nothing  to  be  ashamed  of.  It  is  the  man  who  lives,  and 
eats  and  drinks  and  sleeps,  and  knows  no  more  when  his 
head  presses  the  pillow  at  night  than  when  the  sun  woke 
him  in  the  morning,  it  is  that  man  who  is  ignoble.  You 
have  spoken  of  the  past,"  he  added,  turning  face  to  face 
with  Rochester.  "  Once  more  I  will  remind  you  of  your 
own  words.  '  The  only  crime  In  life  is  failure.  If  the 
crash  comes,  and  the  pieces  lie  around  you,  swim  out  to 
sea  too  far,  and  sink  beneath  the  waves  forever!  '  Wasn't 
that  your  advice?  Not  your  exact  words,  perhaps,  but 
wasn't  that  what  you  told  the  boy  who  sat  here  and 
dreamed  ?  " 

Rochester  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly. 


IQ2  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  Youth,"  he  said,  "  may  be  forgiven  much.  Man- 
hood must  accept  its  own  responsibilities." 

Saton  smiled  grimly. 

"  Always  the  same,"  he  said.  "  All  the  time  you  play 
with  the  truth,  Rochester,  as  though  it  were  a  glass  ball 
committed  into  your  keeping,  and  yours  alone.  Don't 
you  know  that  the  one  inspired  period  of  life  is  youth 
—  youth  before  it  is  sullied  with  experience,  youth  which 
knows  everything,  fears  nothing  —  youth  which  has  the 
eyes  of  the  clairvoyant?  " 

Rochester  frowned. 

"  Your  tongue  goes  glibly  to-night,"  he  remarked. 
"  Talk  to  the  shadows,  my  friend.  Lady  Marrabel  and 
I  are  going." 

"  I  did  not  bid  you  come,"  Saton  answered.  "  This  is 
my  spot,  and  my  hour.  It  was  you  who  intruded." 

"  The  fact  that  this  is  my  property "  Rochester 

began,  gently. 

"  Is  of  no  consequence,"  Saton  answered.  "  You  may 
buy  the  earth  upon  which  we  stand,  but  you  cannot  buy 
the  person  whose  feet  shall  press  it,  or  the  thoughts  that 
rise  up  from  it,  or  the  words  that  are  breathed  from  it, 
or  the  hopes  and  passions  which  go  trembling  from  it  to 
the  skies.  Go  away  and  jog  homeward  behind  your  fat 
pony,  but " 

"  Well,  sir?  "  Rochester  asked,  turning  suddenly. 

Saton's  eyes  did  not  meet  his.  They  were  fixed  upon 
Pauline's,  and  Pauline  was  as  white  as  death. 

"  Take  her,  too,  if  you  will,"  Saton  said  slowly. 
"  Take  her,  too,  if  she  will  go." 


AN   UNPLEASANT    ENCOUNTER       193 

"  I  am  going  this  instant,"  Pauline  cried,  with  a  sud- 
den nervous  passion  in  her  tone.  "  Come,  Henry,  come 
away.  I  hate  this  place.  Come  away  quickly." 

Rochester  caught  her  hand.  It  was  cold  as  a  stone. 
She  was  pale,  and  she  commenced  to  tremble. 

"  Take  her,"  Saton  said,  "  if  she  will  go.  Take  her, 
because  you  are  strong  and  she  is  weak.  Lead  her  by 
the  arm,  guide  her  as  you  will,  only  be  sure  that  you 
leave  nothing  with  me." 

He  sat  down  upon  the  rock,  and  with  folded  arms 
looked  away  from  them  —  even  as  though  they  had  not 
existed  —  across  to  the  world  of  shadows  and  vague 
places.  Rochester  passed  his  arm  through  Pauline's,  and 
led  her  down  the  hill.  Her  hands  were  cold.  She  seemed 
to  lift  her  feet  as  though  they  had  been  of  lead.  She  did 
not  look  at  him.  Always  she  looked  ahead.  She  moved 
slowly  and  heavily.  When  he  spoke,  her  lips  answered 
him  languidly.  Rochester  felt  an  intense  and  passionate 
anger  burning  in  his  veins.  The  vague  disquiet  of  an 
hour  ago  had  settled  down  into  something  definite.  She 
was  his  no  longer !  Something  had  come  between  them ! 
Even  though  he  might  take  her  into  his  arms,  might  hold 
her  there,  and  dare  anyone  in  the  world  to  take  her  from 
him,  it  was  her  body  only,  the  shadow  of  herself.  Some- 
thing —  some  part  of  her  seemed  to  have  flitted  away. 
He  asked  himself  with  a  sudden  cold  horror,  whether  in- 
deed it  had  remained  by  the  side  of  that  silent  figure, 
blotted  out  now  from  sight,  who  sat  upon  the  rocks 
while  the  darkness  fell  about  him ! 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

IXDIS    IS    OBEDIENT 

LOIS  and  her  companion  stopped  on  the  summit 
of  the  hill  to  look  at  the  rolling  background  of 
woods,  brilliant  still  with  their  autumn  color- 
ing. The  west  wind  had  blown  her  hair  into  disorder,  but 
it  had  blown  also  the  color  back  into  her  cheeks.  Her 
eyes  were  bright,  and  her  laughter  infectious.  Her  com- 
panion stooped  down  and  passed  his  arm  through  hers, 
looking  into  her  face  admiringly. 

"  Lois,"  he  said,  "  this  is  the  first  day  I  have  seen  you 
like  your  old  self.  I  can't  tell  you  how  glad  I  am." 

She  smiled. 

"  I  wasn't  aware,  Maurice,"  she  said,  "  that  I  have 
been  very  different.  I  have  had  headaches  now  and  then, 
lately.  Fancy  having  a  headache  an  afternoon  like 
this !  "  she  added,  throwing  back  her  head  once  more, 
and  breathing  in  the  fresh,  invigorating  air. 

"  You  ought  to  have  seen  a  doctor,"  her  companion 
declared.  "  I  told  Lady  Mary  so  the  other  day." 

"  Rubbish !  "  Lois  exclaimed,  lightly. 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,"  Captain  Vandermere  replied. 
"  I  was  beginning  to  worry  about  you.  I  almost  fan- 
cied  " 

"Well?" 


LOIS    IS    OBEDIENT  195 

"  It  almost  seemed,"  he  continued,  a  little  awkwardly, 
"  as  though  you  had  something  on  your  mind.  You 
seemed  so  queer  every  now  and  then,  little  girl,"  he 
added,  "  I  do  hope  that  if  there  was  anything  bothering 
you,  you'd  tell  me  all  about  it.  We're  old  pals,  you 
know." 

She  laughed  —  not  quite  naturally. 

"  My  dear  Maurice,"  she  said,  "  of  course  there  has 
been  nothing  of  that  sort  the  matter  with  me !  What 
could  I  have  on  my  mind?  " 

"  No  love  affairs,  eh?  "  he  asked,  stroking  his  fair 
moustache. 

She  shook  her  head  thoughtfully. 

"  No !  "  she  said.  "  No  love  affairs." 

He  tightened  his  grasp  upon  her  arm.  He  had  an  idea 
that  he  was  being  very  diplomatic  indeed.  And  Lady 
Mary  had  begged  him  to  find  out  whatever  was  the  mat- 
ter with  poor  dear  Lois ! 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  To  tell  you 
the  truth,  I  have  been  very  jealous  lately." 

"  You  jealous  !  "  she  exclaimed,  mockingly. 

"  Fact,  I  assure  you,"  he  answered. 

"Captain  Maurice  Vandermere  jealous!"  she  re- 
peated, looking  up  at  him  with  dancing  eyes  — "  abso- 
lutely the  most  popular  bachelor  in  London !  And  jeal- 
ous of  me,  too !  " 

"  Is  that  so  very  wonderful,  Lois  ?  "  he  asked.  "  We 
have  been  pretty  good  friends,  you  know." 

She  felt  his  hand  upon  her  arm,  and  she  looked  away. 

"  Yes,"   she   said,   "  we  have  been   friends,   only   we 


ig6  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

haven't  seen  much  of  one  another  the  last  month  or  so, 
have  we?  " 

"  It  hasn't  been  my  fault,"  he  declared.  "  I  really 
couldn't  get  leave  before,  although  I  tried  hard.  I 
shouldn't  have  been  here  now,  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
Lois,"  he  went  on,  "  but  Lady  Mary's  been  frightening 
me  a  bit." 

"  About  me  ?  "  Lois  asked. 

"  About  you,"  he  assented. 

"  What  has  she  been  saying?  " 

"  Well,  nothing  definite,"  Captain  Vandermere  an- 
swered, "  but  of  course  you  know  she's  an  awful  good  pal 
of  mine,  and  she  did  write  me  a  line  or  two  about  you.  It 
seems  there's  some  young  fellow  been  about  down  here 
whom  she  isn't  very  stuck  on,  and  she  seemed  to  be 
afraid " 

"  Well,  go  on,"  Lois  said  calmly. 

"  Well,  that  he  was  making  the  running  with  you  a 
bit,"  Captain  Vandermere  declared,  feeling  that  he  was 
getting  into  rather  deeper  waters.  "  Of  course,  I  don't 
know  anything  about  him,  and  I  don't  want  to  say  any- 
thing against  anybody  who  is  a  friend  of  yours,  but 
from  all  that  I  have  heard  he  didn't  seem  to  me  to  be  the 
sort  of  man  I  fancied  for  my  little  friend  Lois  to  get 
—  well,  fond  of." 

"  So  you  decided  to  come  down  yourself,"  Lois  con- 
tinued. 

"  I  decided  to  come  down  and  say  something  which  I 
ought  to  have  said  some  time  ago,"  Captain  Vandermere 
continued,  "  only  you  see  you  are  really  only  a  child, 


LOIS    IS    OBEDIENT  197 

and  you've  got  a  lot  more  money  than  I  have,  and  you 
are  not  of  age  yet,  so  I  thought  I'd  let  it  be  for  a  bit. 
But  you  know  I'm  fond  of  you,  Lois." 

"  Are  you  ?  "  she  asked,  artlessly. 

"  You  must  know  that,"  he  continued,  bending  over 
her.  "  I  wonder " 

"  Are  you  aware  that  we  are  standing  on  the  top  of  a 
hill,"  Lois  said,  "  and  that  everybody  for  a  good  many 
miles  round  has  a  perfectly  clear  view  of  us  ?  " 

"  I  don't  care  where  we  are,"  he  declared.  "  I  have  got 
to  go  on  now.  Lois,  will  you  marry  me?  " 

"  Is  this  a  proposal?  "     She  laughed  nervously. 

"  Sounds  like  it,"  he  admitted. 

She  was  silent  for  several  moments.  Into  her  eyes  there 
had  come  something  of  that  look  which  had  sent  Lady 
Mary  into  her  room  to  write  to  Captain  Vandermere,  and 
bid  him  come  without  delay.  The  color  had  gone.  She 
seemed  suddenly  older  —  tired. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know !  "  she  said.  "  I  think  I  should  like 
to,  but  I  can't !  —  no,  I  can't !  " 

They  began  to  descend  the  hill.  He  kept  his  arm  in 
hers. 

"  Why  not?  "  he  asked.  "  Don't  you  care  for  me?  " 

"  I  —  I  don't  know,"  she  answered.  "  I  don't  know 
whether  I  care  for  anybody.  Wait,  please.  Don't  speak 
to  me  for  several  moments." 

Their  path  skirted  the  side  of  a  ploughed  field,  and 
then  through  a  little  gate  they  passed  into  a  long,  strag- 
gling plantation.  Directly  she  was  under  the  shelter  of 
the  trees,  she  burst  into  tears. 


i§8  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

"  Don't  come  near  me,"  she  begged.  "  Leave  me  alone 
for  a  moment.  I  shall  be  better  directly." 

He  disregarded  her  bidding  to  the  extent  of  placing 
his  arm  around  her  waist.  He  made  no  attempt,  however, 
to  draw  her  hands  away  from  her  face,  or  stop  her  tears. 

"  Little  girl,"  he  said,  "  I  knew  that  there  was  some 
trouble.  It  is  there  in  your  dear,  innocent  little  face  for 
anyone  to  see  who  cares  enough  about  you  to  look. 
When  you  have  dried  those  eyes,  you  must  tell  me  all 
about  it.  Remember  that  even  if  you  won't  have  me  for 
a  husband,  we  are  old  enough  friends  for  you  to  look 
upon  me  as  an  elder  brother." 

She  dried  her  eyes,  and  looked  up  at  him  with  a  hope- 
less little  smile. 

"  You  are  a  dear,"  she  said,  "  and  I  am  very  fond  of 
you.  I  don't  know  what's  happened  to  me  —  at  least  I 
do  know,  but  I  can't  tell  anyone." 

"  Is  it,"  he  asked  gravely,  "  that  you  care  about  this 
person  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know !  "  she  answered.  "  I  hope  not.  I 
don't  know,  I'm  sure.  Sometimes  I  feel  that  I  do,  and 
sometimes,  when  I  am  sane,  when  I  am  in  my  right  mind, 
I  know  that  I  do  not.  Maurice,"  she  begged,  "  help  me. 
Please  help  me." 

His  face  cleared. 

"  I'll  help  you  right  enough,  little  girl,"  he  answered. 
"  Just  listen  to  me.  I'm  not  going  to  see  you  throw 
yourself  away  upon  an  outsider.  Just  remember  that. 
On  the  other  hand,  I'm  not  going  to  bother  you  to  death. 
Here  I  am  by  your  side,  and  here  I  mean  to  stay.  If  that 


LOIS    IS    OBEDIENT  199 

—  no,  I  won't  call  him  names ! "  he  said,  stopping  short 
in  his  sentence  — "  but  if  anyone  tries  to  make  you  un- 
happy, well,  I  shall  have  something  to  say.  Come  along, 
let's  finish  our  walk.  We'll  talk  about  something  else  if 
you  like." 

She  drew  a  little  sigh  of  relief. 

"  You  are  a  dear,  Maurice,"  she  repeated.  "  Come 
along,  we'll  go  down  the  lane  and  over  the  hills  home. 
I  do  feel  safe,  somehow,  with  you,"  she  added,  impul- 
sively. "You  are  not  going  away  just  yet,  are  you?" 

"  Not  for  a  fortnight,  at  any  rate,"  he  answered. 

"  And  you  won't  leave  me  alone  ?  "  she  begged  — 
"  not  even  if  I  ask  to  be  left  alone  ?  You  see  —  I  can't 
make  you  understand  —  but  I  don't  even  trust  myself." 

He  laughed  reassuringly. 

"  I'll  look  after  you,  never  fear,"  he  answered.  "  I'll 
be  better  than  a  watchdog.  Tell  me,  what's  your  handi- 
cap at  golf  now?  We  must  have  a  game  to-morrow." 

They  walked  down  the  lane,  talking  —  in  a  somewhat 
subdued  manner,  perhaps,  but  easi  ^  enough  —  upon 
lighter  subjects.  And  then  at  the  corner,  just  as  they  had 
passed  the  entrance  to  Blackbird's  Nest,  they  came  face 
to  face  with  Saton.  Vandermere  felt  her  suddenly  creep 
closer  to  him,  as  though  for  protection,  and  from  his  six 
feet  odd  of  height,  he  frowned  angrily  at  the  young  man 
with  his  hat  in  his  hand  preparing  to  accost  them.  Never 
was  dislike  more  instinctive  and  hearty.  Vandermere,  an 
ordinarily  intelligent  but  unimaginative  Englishman,  of 
the  normally  healthy  type,  a  sportsman,  a  good  fellow, 
and  a  man  of  breeding  —  and  Saton,  this  strange  prod- 


200  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

uct  of  strange  circumstances,  externally  passable 
enough,  but  with  something  about  him  which  seemed, 
even  in  that  clear  November  sunshine,  to  suggest  the 
footlights. 

"  You  are  quite  a  stranger,  Miss  Champneyes," 
Saton  said,  taking  her  unresisting  hand  in  his.  "  I  hope 
that  you  are  going  in  to  see  the  Comtesse.  Only  this 
morning  she  told  me  that  she  was  finding  it  appallingly 
lonely." 

"I  —  I  wasn't  calling  anywhere  this  afternoon,"  Lois 
said  timidly.  "  Captain  Vandermere  has  come  down  to 
stay  with  us  for  a  few  days,  and  I  was  showing  him  the 
country.  This  is  Mr.  Saton  —  Captain  Vandermere.  I 
don't  know  whether  you  remember  him.'* 

The  two  men  exchanged  the  briefest  of  greetings. 
Saton's  was  civil  enough.  Vandermere's  was  morose,  al- 
most discourteous. 

"  Let  me  persuade  you  to  change  your  mind,"  Saton 
said,  speaking  slowly,  and  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  Lois. 
"  The  Comtesse  would  be  so  disappointed  if  she  knew 
that  you  had  passed  this  way  and  had  not  entered." 

Vandermere  was  conscious  that  in  some  way  the  girl 
by  his  side  was  changed.  She  drew  a  little  away  from 
him. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  "  I  shall  be  pleased  to  go  in 
and  see  her.  You  do  not  mind,  Maurice?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  answered.  "  If  I  may  be  allowed,  I 
will  come  with  you." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Then  Saton  spoke  — 
quietly,  regretfully. 


LOIS   IS    OBEDIENT  201 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  he  said,  "  but  the  Comtesse  de  Ves- 
tinges  —  my  adopted  mother,"  he  explained,  with  a  lit- 
tle bow  — "  receives  no  one.  She  is  old,  and  her  health  is 
not  of  the  best.  A  visit  from  Miss  Champneyes  always 
does  her  good." 

Lois  looked  up  at  her  companion. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said,  "  you  will  have  a  cigarette  in  the 
lane." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  seem  inhospitable,"  Saton  said 
smoothly.  "  If  Captain  Vandermere  will  come  up  to  the 
house,  my  study  is  at  his  service,  and  I  can  give  him  some 
cigarettes  which  I  think  he  would  find  passable." 

"  Thank  you,"  Vandermere  answered,  a  little  gruffly, 
"  I'll  wait  out  here.  Remember,  Lois,"  he  added,  turn- 
ing towards  her,  "  that  we  are  expected  home  to  play 
bridge  directly  after  tea." 

"  I  will  not  be  long,"  she  answered. 

She  moved  off  with  Saton,  turning  round,  with  a  little 
farewell  nod  to  Vandermere  as  they  passed  through  the 
gate.  He  took  a  quick  step  towards  her.  Was  it  his 
fancy,  or  was  there  indeed  appeal  in  the  quick  glance 
which  she  had  thrown  him?  Then  directly  afterwards, 
while  he  hesitated,  he  heard  her  laugh.  Reluctantly  he 
gave  up  the  idea  of  following  them,  and  swinging  him- 
self onto  a  gate,  sat  watching  the  two  figures  climbing 
the  field  toward  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A    LAST    WARNING 

THE  laugh  which  checked  Vandermere  in  his  first 
intention  of  following  Lois  and  Saton  up  the 
field,  was  scarcely  a  mirthful  effort.  Saton  had 
bent  toward  his  companion,  and  his  tone  had  been  almost 
threatening. 

"You  must  not  look  at  anyone  like  that  while  I  am 
with  you,"  he  said.  "  You  must  not  look  as  though  you 
were  frightened  of  me.  You  must  seem  amused.  You 
must  laugh." 

She  obeyed.  It  was  a  poor  effort,  but  it  sounded 
natural  enough  in  the  distance. 

"  Come,"  Saton  continued,  "  you  are  not  very  kind 
to  me,  Lois.  You  are  not  very  kind  to  the  man  whom  you 
are  going  to  marry,  whom  you  have  said  that  you  love. 
It  has  been  very  lonely  these  last  few  days,  Lois.  You 
have  not  come  to  me.  I  have  watched  for  you  often." 

"  I  could  not  come,"  she  answered.  "  Lady  Mary  ha* 
been  with  me  all  the  time.  I  think  that  she  suspects." 

"  Surely  you  are  clever  enough,"  he  answered,  "  to 
outwit  a  little  simpleton  like  that.  Has  Rochester  been 
interfering?  " 

"  If  he  knew  that  I  even  spoke  to  you,"  she  answered, 
"  I  think  that  he  would  send  me  away." 


A   LAST   WARNING  203 

"  It  is  not  kind  of  them,"  he  said,  "  to  be  so  bitter 
against  me." 

She  shrank  from  him. 

"  If  they  knew !  "  she  said.  "  If  they  only  knew  that 
I  even  thought  of  marrying  you,  or  —  or  — " 

Saton  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Ah,  well,"  he  said,  "  they  know  as  much  as  it  is 
well  for  them  to  know !  After  all,  you  see,  no  harm  has 
happened  to  your  guardian.  I  saw  him  to-day,  on  his 
way  home  from  hunting.  He  looked  strong  and  well 
enough.  Tell  me,  Lois,"  he  continued,  "  has  he  had  any 
visitors  from  London  the  last  few  days?  I  don't  mean 
guests  —  I  mean  people  to  see  him  on  business?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  she  answered.  "  Why?  " 

Saton's  face  darkened. 

"  It  is  he,  I  am  sure,"  he  said,  "  who  is  interfering  in 
my  concerns.  Never  mind,  Lois,  we  will  not  talk  about 
that,  dear.  Give  me  your  hand.  We  are  engaged,  you 
know.  You  should  be  glad  to  have  these  few  minutes 
with  me." 

Her  fingers  which  he  clasped  were  like  ice.  He  was 
puzzled  at  her  attitude. 

"  A  month  ago,"  he  said  softly,  "  you  did  not  find  it 
such  a  hardship  to  spend  a  little  time  alone  with  me." 

"  A  month  ago,"  she  answered,  "  I  had  not  seen  you 
on  your  knees  with  a  gun,  seen  your  white  face,  heard 
the  report,  and  seen  Mr.  Rochester  fall.  I  had  not  seen 
you  steal  away  through  the  bracken.  Oh,  it  was  terrible ! 
You  looked  like  a  murderer!  I  shall  never,  never  for- 
get it." 


204  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

He  laughed  softly. 

"  These  things  are  fancies,"  he  said  — "  dreams.  You 
will  forget  them,  my  dear  Lois.  You  will  forget  them 
very  soon." 

They  entered  the  house,  and  in  the  hall  he  drew  her 
into  his  arms.  She  wrenched  herself  free,  and  crouched 
back  in  the  corner,  with  her  hands  stretched  out  in  front 
of  her  face. 

"  Don't !  "  she  cried.  "  Don't !  If  you  kiss  me,  I  shall 
go  mad.  Can't  you  see  that  I  don't  want  to  come  with 
you,  that  I  don't  want  to  be  with  you?  You  shall  let  me 
go !  You  must  let  me  go !  " 

He  stood  frowning  a  few  feet  away.  To  tell  the  truth, 
he  was  honestly  puzzled  at  her  attitude.  At  last,  with  a 
little  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  he  threw  open  the  door  of 
the  sitting-room. 

"  Rachael,"  he  said,  "  Lois  has  come  to  see  you  for  a 
few  minutes."  • 

Lois  went  timidly  into  the  room.  Rachael,  with  a 
shawl  around  her  shoulders,  was  sitting  in  front  of  a 
huge  fire.  She  turned  her  head  and  held  out  her  long 
withered  hand,  as  usual  covered  with  rings. 

"  Sit  opposite  me,  child.  Let  me  look  at  you." 

Lois  sat  down,  gazing  with  fascinated  eyes  at  the 
woman  whose  presence  she  found  almost  as  terrifying  as 
the  presence  of  Saton  himself. 

"  My  son  —  I  call  Bertrand  my  son,"  she  said,  "  be- 
cause I  have  adopted  him,  and  because  everything  I  have, 
even  my  name  if  he  will  have  it  —  will  be  his  —  my  son, 
then,  tells  me  that  he  has  not  seen  you  for  several  days." 


A   LAST   WARNING  205 

"  It  is  very  difficult,"  Lois  said,  trembling. 

"Why?"  Rachael  asked. 

"  My  guardian,  Mr.  Rochester,  does  not  allow  Ber- 
trand  to  come  to  the  house,"  Lois  said,  hesitatingly, 
*'  and  Lady  Mary  tries  not  to  let  me  come  out  alone." 

Rachael  nodded  her  head  slowly,  her  eyes  glittered  in 
the  firelight.  Wrapped  in  her  black  shawl,  she  looked 
like  some  quaint  effigy  —  something  scarcely  human. 

"  Your  guardian  and  his  wife,"  she  said,  "  are  foolish, 
ignorant  people.  They  do  not  understand  such  men  as 
Bertrand.  You  will  understand  him,  child.  You  will 
know  him  better  when  he  is  your  husband,  know  him 
better,  and  be  proud  of  him.  Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"I  —  I  suppose  so,"  Lois  said. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  came  this  afternoon,"  Rachael 
continued.  "  Bertrand  and  I  have  been  talking.  We 
think  it  well  that  you  should  be  married  very  soon." 

"  I  am  not  of  age,"  Lois  said,  breathlessly. 

"  It  does  not  matter,"  Rachael  declared.  "  Your 
guardian  can  keep  back  your  money,  but  that  is  of  no 
consequence.  It  will  come  to  you  in  time,  and  Bertrand 
has  plenty  himself.  I  am  afraid  that  they  might  try  and 
tempt  you  to  be  faithless  to  my  son.  You  are  very 
young  and  impressionable,  and  though  I  do  not  doubt 
but  that  you  are  fond  of  him,  it  is  not  easy  to  be  faith- 
ful when  you  are  alone,  and  with  such  people  as  Mr. 
Rochester  and  Lady  Mary.  I  am  going  to  London  in  a 
few  days.  I  think  it  would  be  well  if  you  went  with  me. 
Bertrand  could  get  a  special  license,  and  you  could  be 
married  at  once." 


206  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  No !  "  she  shrieked.  "  No  !  No  !  " 

Rachael  said  nothing.  Her  lips  moved,  but  no  sound 
came.  Only  her  eyes  flashed  unutterable  things. 

Upon  the  somewhat  hysterical  silence  came  the  sound 
of  Saton's  voice  —  cold,  decisive. 

"  Lois,"  he  said,  "  what  my  mother  has  advised  would 
make  me  very  happy.  Will  you  remember  that  I  wish  it? 
Will  you  remember  that?  " 

"  Yes  !  "  she  faltered. 

"  I  shall  make  you  a  good  husband,"  he  added,  com- 
ing a  little  nearer  to  her,  sinking  on  one  knee  by  her 
side,  and  taking  her  cold,  unresisting  hands  into  his.  "  I 
shall  make  you  a  good  husband,  and  I  think  that  you  will 
be  happy.  We  cannot  go  on  like  this.  I  only  see  you  now 
by  stealth.  It  must  come  to  an  end." 

"  Yes !  "  she  faltered. 

"  Next  time  we  meet,"  he  continued,  "  I  will  tell  you 
what  plans  we  have  made." 

She  turned  her  head  slowly,  and  looked  at  him  with 
frightened,  wide-open  eyes. 

"  Why  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Why  do  you  want  me  to  marry 
you?  You  do  not  care  for  me.  You  do  not  care  for  me 
at  all.  Is  it  because  I  am  rich  ?  But  you  —  you  are  rich 
yourselves.  I  would  offer  you  my  money,  but  you  can- 
not want  that." 

He  smiled  enigmatically. 

"  No ! "  he  said.  "  Money  is  a  good  thing,  but  we 
have  money  ourselves.  Don't  you  believe,  Lois,"  he 
added,  bending  towards  her,  "  that  I  am  fond  of  you?  " 

"  Oh !  yes,"  she  answered,  "  if  you  say  so !  " 


A   LAST   WARNING  207 

"  Of  course  I  say  so !  "  he  declared.  "  I  am  very  fond 
of  you  indeed,  or  I  should  not  want  to  marry  you. 
Come,  I  think  that  you  had  better  say  good-bye  to  my 
mother  now.  Your  friend  outside  will  be  tired  of  wait- 
ing." 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  and  he  led  her  from  the  room. 
They  walked  down  the  field  side  by  side,  and  Lois  felt 
her  knees  trembling.  She  was  white  as  a  sheet,  and  once 
she  was  obliged  to  clutch  his  arm  for  support.  As  they 
neared  the  gate,  they  saw  that  Vandermere  was  talking 
to  someone  on  horseback.  Saton's  face  darkened  as  he 
recognised  the  tall  figure.  His  first  impulse  was  to  stop, 
but  with  Lois  by  his  side  he  saw  at  once  that  it  was  im- 
possible. With  the  courage  that  waits  upon  the  in- 
evitable, he  opened  the  gate  and  passed  out  into  the 
lane. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Miss  Champneyes !  "  he  said,  hold- 
ing out  his  hand.  "  It  was  very  good  of  you  to  come 
in  and  visit  the  Comtesse.  She  is  always  so  glad  indeed 
to  see  you." 

The  girl's  fingers  lay  for  a  moment  icy  cold  within 
his.  Then  she  turned  with  a  little  breath  of  relief  to 
Vandermere.  They  walked  off  together. 

Rochester  signalled  with  his  whip  to  Saton  to  wait  for 
a  moment.  As  soon  as  the  other  two  were  out  of  ear- 
shot, he  leaned  down  from  his  saddle. 

"  My  young  friend,"  he  said,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  you 
are  wilfully  disregarding  my  warning." 

"  I  was  not  aware,"  Saton  answered,  "  that  Miss 
Champneyes  was  a  prisoner  in  your  house,  nor  do  I  see 


208  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

how  I  am  to  be  held  responsible  for  her  call  upon  the 
Comtesse." 

"  We  will  not  bandy  words,"  Rochester  said.  "  I  have 
no  wish  to  quarrel  with  you,  but  I  want  you  always  to 
remember  the  things  which  I  have  said.  Lois  Champneyes 
is  very  nearly  of  age,  it  is  true,  but  she  remains  a  child 
by  disposition  and  temperament.  As  her  guardian,  I 
want  you  to  understand  that  I  forbid  you  to  continue 
your  friendship  or  even  your  acquaintance  with  her !  " 

The  quiet  contempt  of  Rochester's  words  stung  Saton 
into  a  moment  of  fury. 

"  What  sort  of  a  creature  am  I,  then,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  that  you  should  think  me  unworthy  even  to  speak  to 
your  ward,  or  to  the  women  of  your  household?  You 
treat  me  as  though  I  were  a  criminal,  or  worse !  " 

Rochester  tapped  his  riding  boot  with  the  end  of  his 
whip.  Saton  watched  him  with  fascinated  eyes.  There 
seemed  something  a  little  ominous  in  the  action,  in  the 
sight  of  that  gently  moving  whip,  held  so  firmly  in  the 
long,  sinewy  fingers. 

"  What  you  are,"  Rochester  said,  leaning  a  little 
down  from  his  horse,  "  you  know  and  I  know.  Let  that 
be  enough.  Only  remember  that  there  comes  a  time  when 
threats  cease,  and  actions  commence.  And  as  sure  as  you 
and  I  are  met  here  together  this  evening,  Saton,  I  tell 
you  that  if  you  offend  again  in  this  matter,  I  shall 
punish  you.  You  understand?  " 

Rochester  swung  his  horse  round  and  cantered  down 
the  lane.  Saton  stood  looking  after  him  with  white, 
angry  face  and  clenched  hands. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  DUCHESS'S  DINNER  PARTY 

THE  Duchess  welcomed  the  little  party  from 
Beauleys  in  person,  and  with  more  than  or- 
dinary warmth. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  all,  of  course,"  she  said,  "  but 
I  am  really  delighted  to  see  you  about  again,  Henry.  Do 
tell  me,  now.  I  have  heard  so  many  contradictory  re- 
ports. Did  you  shoot  yourself,  or  was  it  one  of  your 
guests  who  did  it?  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  poor 
Ronald  always  says  that  the  men  one  asks  to  shoot, 
nowadays,  hit  everything  except  the  birds." 

"  My  dear  Duchess,"  Rochester  answered,  "  I  certainly 
did  not  shoot  myself.  I  have  every  confidence  in  my 
guests,  and  so  far  as  we  have  been  able  to  ascertain, 
there  wasn't  another  soul  in  the  neighborhood.  Shall 
we  say  that  I  was  shot  by  the  act  of  God?  There  really 
doesn't  seem  to  be  any  other  explanation." 

The  Duchess  was  not  altogether  satisfied. 

"  To-night  I  am  going  to  offer  you  a  great  privilege," 
she  said.  "  I  am  going  to  give  you  a  chance  of  finding 
out  the  answer  to  your  riddle." 

Rochester  looked  perplexed,  and  Lady  Mary  blandly 
curious.  Pauline  alone  seemed  as  though  by  instinct  to 
realize  what  lay  beneath  their  hostess's  words.  Her  face 


210  THE   MOVING    FINGER 

seemed  suddenly  to  grow  tense.  She  shrank  back  —  a 
slight,  involuntary  movement,  but  significant  enough 
under  the  circumstances. 

"  An  answer  to  my  riddle,"  Rochester  remarked, 
smiling.  "  Really,  I  did  not  know  that  I  had  pro- 
pounded one." 

"  Only  a  moment  ago,"  the  Duchess  reminded  him, 
"  you  spoke  of  being  shot  by  the  act  of  God.  That,  of 
course,  was  a  form  of  speech.  You  meant  that  you  did 
not  know  who  did  it.  Perhaps  we  shall  be  able  to  solve 
that  little  mystery  for  you." 

Rochester  looked  at  his  hostess  as  though  for  a  mo- 
ment he  doubted  her  sanity.  Tall  and  slim  in  his  im- 
maculate clothes,  standing  before  the  great  wood  fire 
which  burned  in  the  open  grate,  he  leaned  a  little  for- 
ward upon  his  stick,  with  knitted  brows.  Then  his  eyes 
caught  Pauline's,  and  something  which  he  was  about  to 
say  seemed  to  die  away  upon  his  lips. 

"  Of  course,  you  are  unbelievers,  all  of  you,"  the 
Duchess  said,  calmly,  "  but  some  day  —  perhaps  even 
to-night  —  you  may  become  converts.  Did  I  tell  you, 
Mary,"  she  continued,  turning  away  from  Rochester, 
"  that  I  met  that  extraordinary  man  Naudheim  in  Lon- 
don? He  told  me  so  many  interesting  things,  and  since 
then  I  have  been  reading.  He  introduced  me  to  —  to  one 
of  his  most  brilliant  pupils  —  a  young  man,  he  assured 
me,  whose  insight  was  more  highly  developed,  even,  than 
his  own.  Of  course,  you  understand  that  in  these  mat- 
ters, insight  and  perception  take  the  place  almost  of 
brains." 


THE    DUCHESS'S    DINNER   PARTY      211 

"  My  dear  Duchess,"  Rochester  interrupted,  "  what 
are  you  talking  about?  " 

"  The  new  science,"  the  Duchess  answered,  with  a  note 
of  triumph  in  her  tone.  "  You  will  learn  all  about  it 
some  day,  and  you  cannot  begin  too  soon.  The  young 
man  whom  Professor  Naudheim  spoke  so  highly  of  is 
dining  here  to-night.  Curiously  enough,  I  found  that 
he  was  almost  a  neighbor  of  both  of  ours." 

There  was  an  instant's  silence.  Pauline,  who  was  pre- 
pared, was  now  perhaps  the  calmest  of  the  trio.  Roches- 
ter's face  was  dark  with  anger. 

"  You  refer,  Duchess,  I  suppose,"  he  said  — 

The  Duchess  left  him  unceremoniously.  She  took  a 
step  or  two  forward  with  outstretched  hands.  The  but- 
ler was  announcing  — 

"  Mr.  Saton  !  " 

The  dinner  was  as  successful  as  the  Duchess's  country 
dinners  always  were.  She  herself,  a  hostess  of  renown, 
led  the  conversation  at  her  end  of  the  table.  Like  all 
women  with  a  new  craze,  she  conscientiously  did  her  best 
to  keep  it  in  the  background,  and  completely  failed. 
Before  the  third  course  had  been  removed,  she  was  dis- 
cussing occultism  with  the  bishop  of  the  diocese. 
Rochester,  from  her  other  side,  listened  with  a  thin  smile. 
She  turned  upon  him  suddenly. 

"  Oh,  I  know  that  you're  an  unbeliever ! "  she  said. 
"  You're  one  of  those  people  who  go  through  life  doubt- 
ing everything.  You  shan't  have  him  for  an  ally, 
Bishop,"  she  said,  "  because  your  points  of  view  are  en- 


212  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

tirely  different.  Henry  here  doubts  everything,  from  his 
own  existence  to  the  vintage  of  my  champagne.  You,  on 
the  other  hand,"  she  added,  turning  toward  her  other 
companion,  "  are  forced  to  disbelieve,  because  you  feel 
that  any  new  power  or  gift  that  may  be  granted  to  us, 
and  which  we  discover  for  ourselves,  is  opposed,  of 
course,  to  your  creed." 

"  It  depends,"  the  bishop  remarked,  "  upon  the  nature 
of  that  power." 

"  Even  in  its  elementary  stages,"  the  Duchess  said, 
"  there  is  no  doubt  that  it  is  a  power  which  can  do  a 
great  deal  for  us  towards  solving  the  mysteries  of  exist- 
ence. Personally,  I  consider  it  absolutely  and  entirely 
inimical  to  any  form  of  religious  belief." 

"  Why  ?  "  Rochester  asked  quietly. 

"  Because,"  the  Duchess  answered,  "  all  the  faith  that 
has  been  lavished  upon  religion  since  the  making  of  the 
world,  has  been  a  misapplied  force.  If  it  had  been  ap- 
plied toward  developing  this  new  part  of  ourselves, 
there  ia  no  doubt  that  so  many  thousands  of  years  could 
never  have  passed  without  our  entering  the  last  and 
greatest  chamber  in  the  treasure-house  of  knowledge." 

The  bishop,  being  a  privileged  guest,  and  a  cousin 
of  his  hostess,  deliberately  turned  his  back  upon  her  and 
escaped  from  the  conversation.  The  Duchess  looked  past 
him  towards  Saton,  who  was  sitting  a  few  places  down 
the  table. 

"  There !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  have  been  braver  than 
even  you  could  have  been." 

Saton  smiled. 


THE    DUCHESS'S    DINNER   PARTY      213 

"  That  sort  of  courage,"  he  remarked,  "  is  the  pre- 
rogative of  your  sex." 

"  You  have  heard  what  I  said,"  she  continued.  "  Don't 
you  agree  with  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  he  answered. 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  but  the  Duchess  was  look- 
ing at  him.  She  evidently  expected  him  to  continue  the 
subject. 

"  We  are  told,"  he  said  slowly,  "  that  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  waste  in  the  physical  world  —  that  matter 
simply  changes  its  form.  I  suppose  that  is  true  enough. 
And  yet  a  change  of  form  can  be  for  the  better  or  for 
the  worse,  according  to  our  caprices.  Strictly  speaking, 
it  is  a  waste  when  matter  is  changed  for  the  worse.  It  is 
very  much  like  this,  I  think,  with  regard  to  the  sub- 
ject which  you  were  just  then  discussing.  Faith,  from 
our  point  of  view,  is  a  very  real  and  psychical  force. 
The  faith  which  has  been  spent  upon  religion  through 
all  these  ages,  seems  to  us  very  much  like  the  tragedy 
of  an  unharnessed  Niagara." 

The  Duchess  looked  around  her  triumphantly.  She 
was  chilled  a  little,  however,  by  Rochester's  curling  lip. 

"  Dear  hostess,"  he  whispered  in  her  ear,  "  this  sort  of 
conversation  is  scarcely  respectful  to  the  bishop,  even 
though  he  be  a  relative.  You  can  let  your  young 
protege  expound  his  marvelous  views  after  dinner." 

The  Duchess  shrugged  her  ample  shoulders. 

"  I  wonder  how  it  is,"  she  declared,  a  little  peevishly, 
"  that  directly  one  sets  foot  in  the  country,  one  seems 
to  come  face  to  face  with  the  true  Briton.  What  hypo- 


2i4  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

crites  we  all  are!  We  are  broad  enough  to  discuss  any 
subject  under  the  sun,  in  town,  but  we  seem  to  shrink 
into  something  between  the  Philistine  and  the  agricul- 
tural pedagogue,  as  soon  as  we  sniff  the  air  of  the 
ploughed  fields." 

She  rose  a  little  pettishly,  and  motioned  to  Rochester 
to  take  her  place. 

"  Five  minutes  only,"  she  said.  "  You  will  find  us  all 
over  the  place.  The  cigarettes  and  cigars  are  in  the  hall. 
You  can  finish  your  wine  here,  and  come  out." 

"  Is  there  anything  particular,"  Rochester  asked 
grimly,  "  that  we  are  permitted  to  talk  about  ?  " 

"  With  this  crowd,"  she  whispered,  "  if  I  forbid  poli- 
tics and  agriculture,  I  don't  think  you'll  last  the  five 
minutes." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE    ANSWER    TO    A    RIDDLE 

A  FEW  of  the  Duchess's  guests  left  early  — 
those  who  had  to  drive  a  long  distance,  and 
who  had  not  yet  discarded  their  carriage 
horses  for  motor-cars.  Afterwards  the  party  seemed  to 
draw  into  a  little  circle,  and  it  was  then  that  the  Duchess, 
rising  to  her  feet,  went  over  and  talked  earnestly  for  a 
few  minutes  with  Saton. 

"  Some  slight  thing !  "  she  begged.  "  Anything  to  set 
these  people  wondering!  Look  at  that  old  stick  Henry 
Rochester,  for  instance.  He  believes  nothing  —  doesn't 
want  to  believe  anything.  Give  him  a  shock,  do ! " 

"  Can't  you  understand,  Duchess,"  Saton  said,  "  how 
much  harm  we  do  to  ourselves  by  any  exhibition  of  the 
sort  you  suggest?  People  are  at  once  inclined  to  look 
upon  the  whole  thing  as  a  clever  trick,  and  go  about 
asking  one  another  how  it  is  done." 

The  Duchess  was  disappointed,  and  inclined  to  be 
pettish.  Saton  realized  it,  and  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion prepared  to  temporize. 

"  If  it  would  amuse  you,"  he  said,  "  and  I  can  find 
anyone  here  to  help  me,  I  daresay  we  could  manage  some 
thought  transference.  All  London  seems  to  be  going  to 
see  those  two  people  at  the  Alhambra  —  or  is  it  the  Em- 
pire? You  can  see  the  same  thing  here,  if  you  like." 


216  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

The  Duchess  beamed. 

"  That  would  be  delightful,"  she  said.  "  Whom  would 
you  like  to  help  you  ?  " 

"  Leave  me  alone  for  a  minute  or  two,"  Saton  said. 
"  I  will  look  around  and  choose  somebody." 

The  Duchess  stepped  back  into  the  circle  of  her  guests. 

"  Mr.  Saton  is  going  to  entertain  us  in  a  very  won- 
derful manner,"  she  announced. 

Rochester,  who  had  been  on  his  way  to  the  billiard 
room,  came  back. 

"  Let  us  stay  and  see  the  tricks,"  he  remarked  to  the 
bishop,  who  had  been  his  companion. 

The  Duchess  frowned.  Saton  shot  a  sudden  glance 
at  Rochester.  A  dull,  angry  color  burned  in  his  cheeks. 

"  Stay,  by  all  means,  Mr.  Rochester,"  he  said.  "  We 
may  possibly  be  able  to  interest  you." 

There  was  almost  a  challenge  in  his  words.  Rochester, 
ignoring  them  save  for  his  slightly  uplifted  eyebrows, 
sat  down  by  the  side  of  Pauline. 

"  The  fellow's  cheek  is  consummate !  "  he  muttered. 

"  I  need,"  Saton  remarked  quietly,  "  what  I  suppose 
Mr.  Rochester  would  call  a  confederate.  I  can  only  see 
one  whom  I  think  would  be  temperamently  suitable. 
Will  you  help  me?  "  he  asked,  turning  suddenly  toward 
Pauline. 

"  No !  "  Rochester  answered  sternly.  "  Lady  Marrabel 
will  have  nothing  to  do  with  your  performance." 

Rochester  bit  his  lip  the  moment  he  had  spoken.  He 
felt  that  he  had  made  a  mistake.  One  or  two  of  the 
guests  looked  at  him  curiously.  The  Duchess  was  liter- 


THE   ANSWER   TO    A    RIDDLE       217 

ally  open-mouthed.  Saton  was  smiling  in  a  peculiar 
manner. 

"  In  that  case,"  he  remarked  quietly,  "  if  Mr.  Roches- 
ter has  spoken  with  authority,  I  fear  that  I  can  do  noth- 
ing." 

The  Duchess  was  very  nearly  angry. 

"  Don't  be  such  an  idiot,  Henry ! "  she  said.  "  Of 
course  Pauline  will  help.  What  is  it  you  want  her  to  do, 
Mr.  Saton?" 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  he  answered,  "  except  to  sit  in  a 
corner  of  the  room,  as  far  from  me  as  possible,  and  an- 
swer the  questions  which  I  shall  ask  her,  if  she  be  able. 
You  will  do  that?  "  turning  suddenly  towards  her. 

"  Of  course  she  will ! "  the  Duchess  declared.  "  Be 
quiet,  Henry.  You  are  a  stupid,  prejudiced  person,  and 
I  won't  have  you  interfere." 

Pauline  rose  to  her  feet. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  she  said,  "  that  I  can  scarcely  be  of 
much  use,  but  of  course  I  don't  mind  trying." 

Saton  was  standing  a  little  away,  with  his  elbow  lean- 
ing upon  the  mantelpiece. 

"  If  two  of  you,"  he  said,  helping  himself  to  a  cig- 
arette, and  deliberately  lighting  it,  "  will  take  Lady 
Marrabel  over  —  say  to  that  oak  chair  underneath  the 
banisters  —  blindfold  her,  and  then  leave  her.  Really 
I  ought  to  apologize  for  what  I  am  going  to  do. 
Everything  is  so  very  obvious.  Still,  if  it  amuses  you !  " 

Pauline  sat  by  herself.  The  others  were  all  gathered 
together  in  the  far  corner  of  the  great  hall.  Saton 
turned  to  the  bishop. 


218  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  This  is  only  a  repetition  of  the  sort  of  thing  which 
you  have  doubtless  seen,"  he  said.  "  Have  you  anything 
in  your  pocket  which  you  are  quite  sure  that  Lady  Mar- 
rabel  knows  nothing  of?  " 

Silently  the  bishop  produced  a  small  and  worn  Greek 
Testament.  Saton  opened  it  at  random.  Then  he  turned 
suddenly  toward  the  figure  of  the  woman  sitting  alone 
in  the  distance.  Some  change  had  taken  place  in  his  man- 
ner and  in  his  bearing.  Those  who  watched  him  closely 
were  at  once  aware  of  it.  His  teeth  seemed  to  have  come 
together,  the  lines  of  his  face  to  have  become  tense.  He 
leaned  a  little  forward  toward  Pauline. 

"  I  have  something  in  my  hands,"  he  said.  "  I  wonder 
if  you  can  tell  me  what  it  is." 

There  was  no  answer.  They  listened  and  watched. 
Pauline  never  spoke.  Already  a  smile  was  parting 
Rochester's  lips. 

"  I  think,  Lady  Marrabel,"  Saton  said  slowly,  "  that 
you  can  tell  me,  if  you  will.  I  think  that  you  will  tell 
me.  I  think  that  you  must !  " 

Something  that  sounded  almost  like  a  half-stifled  sob 
came  to  them  from  across  the  hall  —  and  then  Pauline's 
voice. 

"  It  is  a  small  book,"  she  said  — "  a  Testament." 

"  Go  on,"  Saton  said. 

"  A  Greek  Testament ! "  Pauline  continued.  "  It  is 
open  at  —  at  the  sixth  chapter  of  St.  Mark." 

Saton  passed  it  round.  The  Duchess  beamed  with  de- 
light upon  everybody.  Saton  seemed  only  modestly  sur- 
prised at  the  interest  which  everyone  displayed. 


THE    ANSWER    TO    A    RIDDLE       219 

"  We  are  only  doing  something  now,"  he  said,  "  which 
has  already  been  done,  and  proved  easy.  The  only 
trouble  is,  of  course,  that  Lady  Marrabel  being  a 
stranger  to  me,  the  effort  is  a  little  greater.  If  you  will 
be  content  with  one  more  test  of  this  sort,  I  will  try,  if 
you  like,  something  different  —  something,  at  any  rate, 
which  has  not  been  done  in  a  music-hall." 

A  gold  purse  was  passed  to  him,  with  a  small  mono- 
gram inscribed.  Again  Pauline  slowly,  and  even  as 
though  against  her  will,  described  correctly  the  purse 
and  its  contents. 

Saton  brushed  away  the  little  murmurs  of  surprise 
and  delight. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  this  is  all  nothing.  It  really  —  as 
you  will  all  of  you  know  in  a  few  years  time  —  can  be 
done  by  any  one  of  you  who  chooses  seriously  to  de- 
velop the  neglected  part  of  his  or  her  personality.  I 
should  like  to  try  something  else  which  would  be  more 
interesting  to  you." 

The  Duchess  turned  towards  him  with  clasped  hands. 

"  Can't  you,"  she  said,  "  make  her  say  how  Mr. 
Rochester  met  with  his  accident  ?  " 

There  was  a  little  thrill  amongst  everyone.  Saton 
stood  as  though  absorbed  in  thought. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  said  softly  to  himself. 

Rochester  laughed  hardly. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  we  are  getting  practical  at  last. 
Let  one  thing  be  understood,  though.  If  our  young 
friend  here  is  really  able  to  solve  this  little  mystery,  he 
will  not  object  to  my  making  use  of  his  discovery." 


220  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  By  no  means,"  Saton  answered.  "  But  I  warn  you 
that  if  the  person  is  one  unknown  to  Lady  Marrabel  or 
myself,  I  cannot  tell  you  who  it  was.  All  that  I  can  do 
is  perhaps  to  show  you  something  of  how  the  thing  was 
done." 

"  It  will  be  most  interesting !  "  Rochester  declared. 

There  was  a  subdued  murmur  of  thrilled  voices.  One 
or  two  looked  at  each  other  uneasily.  Even  the  Duchess 
began  to  feel  a  little  uncomfortable.  Saton  was  suddenly 
facing  Pauline.  He  was  standing  a  little  nearer,  with  the 
fingers  of  his  right  hand  resting  upon  the  round  oak 
table  which  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  hall.  His  figure 
had  become  absolutely  rigid,  and  the  color  had  left  his 
cheeks.  His  voice  seemed  to  them  to  come  from  some 
other  person. 

"  Listen,"  he  said,  bending  even  a  little  further  to- 
ward the  woman,  who  was  leaning  forward  now  from  her 
chair,  as  though  eager  or  compelled  to  hear  what  was 
being  said  to  her.  "  A  month  —  six  weeks  —  some  time 
ago,  you  were  with  Henry  Rochester,  a  few  minutes  after 
his  accident.  He  was  shot  —  or  he  shot  himself.  He  was 
shot  by  design  or  by  misadventure.  You  were  the  first 
to  find  him.  You  came  round  the  corner  of  the  wood, 
and  you  saw  him  there,  lying  upon  the  grass.  You  heard 
a  shot  just  before  —  two  shots.  You  came  round  the 
corner  of  the  wood,  and  you  saw  nothing  except  the  body 
of  Henry  Rochester  lying  upon  the  ground." 

"  Nothing !  "  she  murmured.  "  Nothing !  " 

There  was  an  intense  silence.  The  little  group  of  peo- 
ple were  all  leaning  forward  with  eyes  riveted  upon 


THE   ANSWER   TO   A    RIDDLE       221 

Pauline  Marrabel.  Even  Rochester's  expression  had  be- 
come a  little  tense. 

"  Think  again,"  Saton  said.  "  There  was  only  a 
corner  of  the  wood  between  you  and  that  field  when  the 
shot  was  fired.  You  are  walking  there  now,  now,  as  the 
shots  are  fired.  Bend  forward.  You  can  see  through 
those  trees  if  you  try.  I  think  that  you  do  see  through 
them." 

Again  he  paused.  Again  there  were  a  few  seconds' 
silence  —  silence  save  for  the  quick  breathing  of  the 
Duchess,  who  was  crumpling  her  lace  handkerchief  into 
a  little  ball  in  her  hands. 

Then  Pauline's  voice  came  to  them. 

"  There  is  a  gun  laid  against  a  gate  which  leads  into 
the  field,"  she  said  — "  a  gun,  and  by  its  side  a  bag  of 
cartridges.  Someone  has  been  hiding  behind  the  wall. 
He  has  the  gun  in  his  hands.  He  looks  along  the  path. 
There  is  no  one  coming." 

A  woman  from  the  little  group  of  people  commenced 
to  sob  softly.  Pauline's  voice  ceased.  Someone  put  a 
hand  over  the  mouth  of  the  frightened  woman. 

"  Go  on,"  Saton  said. 

"  The  man  has  the  gun  in  his  hand.  He  goes  down  on 
his  knees,"  Pauline  continued.  "  The  gun  is  pointed  to- 
wards Mr.  Rochester.  There  is  a  puff  of  smoke,  a  report, 
Mr.  Rochester  has  fallen  down.  He  is  up  again.  Then 
he  falls  !  —  yes,  he  falls  !  " 

Saton  passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said. 

"  The  man  is  taking  the  cartridge  from  the  gun," 


222  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

Pauline  said.  "  He  slips  in  another  from  the  bag.  He 
has  leaned  the  gun  against  the  gate.  He  is  stealing 
away." 

Saton  leaned  towards  her  till  he  seemed  even  about  to 
spring. 

"  You  could  not  see  his  face?  "  he  said. 

There  was  no  answer.  Two  of  the  women  behind  were 
sobbing  now.  A  third  was  lying  back,  half  unconscious. 
Rochester  had  risen  to  his  feet.  The  faces  of  all  of  them 
seemed  suddenly  to  reflect  a  new  and  nameless  terror. 

Saton  moved  slowly  towards  Pauline.  He  moved  un- 
steadily. The  perspiration  now  was  standing  in  thick 
beads  upon  his  forehead.  He  suddenly  realized  his 
risk. 

"You  could  not  see  his  face?"  he  repeated.  "You 
do  not  know  who  it  was  that  fired  that  gun  ?  " 

"  I  could  not  see  his  face,"  she  repeated.  "  But  I  — 
I  can  see  it  now." 

"  You  do  not  recognise  it?  "  he  said,  and  his  voice 
seemed  to  come  tearing  from  his  throat,  charged  with 
some  new  and  compelling  quality.  "  You  cannot  recog- 
nise it?  You  do  not  know  whether  you  have  ever  seen 
it  before?  " 

Pauline  rose  suddenly  to  her  feet.  Her  bosom  was 
heaving,  her  face  was  like  a  white  mask.  Her  hands  were 
suddenly  thrown  high  above  her  head. 

"  It  is  horrible !  "  she  shrieked.  "  It  was  you  who  fired 
the  gun !  —  You !  " 

She  swayed  for  a  moment,  and  fell  over  on  her  side 
like  a  dead  woman  —  her  arms  thrown  out,  her  limbs 


She  swayed  for  a  moment,  and  fell  over  on  her  side. 

{Page  222 


THE   ANSWER   TO    A    RIDDLE       223 

inert,  as  though  indeed  it  were  death  which  had  stricken 
her. 

Rochester,  with  a  shout  of  anger,  sprang  towards  her, 
sending  Saton  reeling  against  the  table.  He  fell  on  his 
knees  by  her  side. 

"  Bring  water,  some  of  you  idiots ! "  he  cried  out. 
"  Ring  the  bell !  And  don't  let  that  cursed  charlatan  es- 
cape! 


.1  » 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

SPOKEN  FROM  THE  HEART 

PAULINE  took  the  card  from  the  hand  of  her 
servant,  and  glanced  at  it  at  first  with  the  idlest 
of  curiosity  —  afterwards  with  a  fixed  and  stead- 
fast attention,  as  though  she  saw  in  those  copperplate 
letters,  elegantly  traced  upon  a  card  of  superfine  quality, 
something  symbolical,  something  of  far  greater  sig- 
nificance than  the  unexpected  name  which  confronted  her. 

"  I  told  you,  Martin,"  she  said,  "  that  I  was  at  home 
to  nobody  except  those  upon  the  special  list." 

"  I  know  it,  your  ladyship,"  the  man  answered,  "  but 
this  gentleman  has  called  every  day  for  a  week,  and  I 
have  refused  even  to  bring  his  name  in.  To-day  he  was 
so  very  persistent  that  I  thought  perhaps  it  would  be 
better  to  bring  his  card." 

Pauline  was  lying  upon  a  couch.  She  had  been  un- 
well for  the  last  two  or  three  weeks.  Nothing  serious  — 
nerves,  she  called  it.  A  doctor  would  probably  have  pre- 
scribed for  her  with  a  smile.  Pauline  knew  better  than 
to  send  for  one.  She  knew  very  well  what  was  the  matter. 
She  was  afraid !  Fear  had  come  upon  her  like  a  disease. 
The  memory  of  that  one  night  racked  her  still  —  the 
memory  of  that,  and  other  things. 

Meanwhile,  the  servant  stood  before  her  in  an  attitude 
of  respectful  attention. 


SPOKEN    FROM    THE    HEART         225 

"  I  will  see  Mr.  Saton,"  she  decided  at  last.  "  You  can 
show  him  in  here,  and  remember  that  until  he  has  gone, 
no  one  else  is  to  be  allowed  to  enter.  Come  yourself 
only  if  I  ring  the  bell,  or  when  you  serve  tea." 

The  man  bowed,  and  went  back  to  where  Saton  was 
waiting  in  the  hall. 

"  Her  ladyship  is  at  home,  sir,"  he  announced.  "  Will 
you  come  this  way  ?  " 

A  certain  drawn  expression  seemed  suddenly  to  vanish 
from  the  young  man's  face.  He  followed  the  servant 
almost  blithely.  In  a  few  seconds  he  was  alone  with  her 
in  the  firelit  drawing-room.  The  door  was  closed  behind 
him. 

Pauline  was  sitting  up  on  the  couch.  For  a  moment 
they  neither  of  them  spoke.  She,  too,  had  been  suffering, 
then,  he  thought,  recognising  the  signs  of  ill-health  in 
her  colorless  cheeks  and  languid  pose. 

He  came  slowly  across  the  room  and  held  out  his  hand. 
She  hesitated,  and  shook  her  head. 

"No!"  she  said.  "I  do  not  think  that  I  wish  to 
shake  hands  with  you,  Mr.  Saton.  I  do  not  understand 
why  you  have  come  here.  I  thought  it  best  to  see  you, 
and  hear  what  you  have  to  say,  once  and  for  all." 

"  Once  and  for  all?  "  he  repeated. 

"  Certainly,"  she  answered.  "  It  does  not  interest  me 
to  fence  with  words.  Between  us  I  think  that  it  is  not 
necessary.  What  do  you  want  with  me?  " 

"  You  know,"  he  answered  calmly. 

She  paused  for  a  moment  or  two.  She  told  herself  that 
this  was  the  most  transcendental  of  follies.  Yet  it  seemed 


226  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

as  though  there  were  something  electrical  in  the  atmos- 
phere, as  though  something  had  come  into  the  room  un- 
accountable, stimulating,  terrifying.  All  the  languor  of 
the  last  few  days  was  gone. 

"  Am  I  to  understand,  then  ?  "  she  said  at  last,  speak- 
ing in  a  low  tone,  and  with  her  face  averted  from  him, 
"  that  you  have  come  to  offer  me  some  explanation  of 
the  events  of  that  night  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  he  answered. 

The  seconds  ticked  on.  She  found  his  taciturnity  mad- 
dening. 

"  Your  visit  had  some  purpose?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  came  to  see  you,"  he  answered. 

"  I  am  not  well,"  she  said,  hurriedly.  "  I  am  not  fit 
to  see  people  or  to  talk  at  all.  I  thought  that  you  must 
have  some  special  purpose  in  coming,  or  I  should  not 
have  received  you." 

"  You  wish  to  talk  then,  about  that  night  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No  !  "  she  answered  — "  and  yet,  yes !  " 

She  sat  upright.  She  looked  him  in  the  eyes. 

"  I  have  not  dared  to  ask  even  myself  this,"  she  said, 
"  but  since  you  are  here,  since  you  have  forced  it  upon 
me,  I  shall  ask  you  and  you  will  tell  me.  That  night  I 
had  —  what  shall  I  call  it  ?  —  a  vision.  I  saw  you  shoot 
Henry  Rochester.  Now  you  are  here  you  shall  tell  me  if 
what  I  saw  was  the  truth?  " 

"  It  was,"  he  answered. 

She  drew  back,  shuddering. 

"  But  why  ?  "  she  asked.  "  He  has  never  done  you  any 
harm." 


SPOKEN    FROM   THE   HEART        227 

"  On  the  contrary,"  Saton  answered,  "  he  is  my  enemy. 
With  all  my  heart  and  soul  I  wish  him  dead  !  " 

"  It  is  terrible !  "  she  murmured. 

"  It  is  the  truth,"  he  answered.  "  The  truth  sometimes 
is  terrible.  That  is  why  people  so  often  evade  it.  Listen. 
I  was  only  a  boy,  a  sentimental  boy,  when  I  first  knew 
Rochester.  Perhaps  he  has  posed  to  you  as  my  benefac- 
tor. Certainly  he  lent  me  money.  I  tell  you  now,  though, 
that  upon  every  penny  of  that  money  was  a  curse. 
Whatever  I  did  went  wrong.  However  hard  I  fought,  I 
was  worsted.  If  I  gambled,  I  lost.  If  I  played  for  safety, 
something  —  even  though  it  might  be  as  unexpected  as 
an  earthquake  —  came  to  wreck  my  plans.  It  was  like 
playing  cards  with  the  Devil  himself.  One  by  one  I  lost 
the  tricks.  When  I  was  penniless,  I  had  nothing  left  to 
think  of  but  the  only  piece  of  advice  your  friend  Henry 
Rochester  gave  me  when  he  sent  me  out  into  the  world. 
The  sting  of  his  voice  was  like  a  lash.  Creatures  of  the 
gutter  he  called  those  who  had  failed,  and  who  dared 
to  live  on.  I  tell  you  that  until  the  time  came  when  I 
looked  down  into  the  Thames,  and  hesitated  whether  or 
no  I  should  take  his  cynical  advice  and  make  an  end  of 
myself,  every  action,  every  endeavor,  and  every  effort 
I  had  made,  had  been  honest.  It  was  his  words,  and  his 
words  entirely,  which  drove  me  into  the  other  paths." 

"  You  admit,  then  — "  she  began. 

"  I  admit  nothing,"  he  answered.  "  Yet  I  will  tell  you 
this.  There  are  things  in  my  life  which  I  loathe,  and 
they  are  there  because  of  Rochester's  words.  Yet  bad 
though  I  am,"  he  continued,  bitterly^  "  that  man's  con- 


228  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

tempt  is  like  a  whip  to  me  whenever  I  see  him.  What,  in 
God's  name,  is  he?  Because  he  has  ancestors  behind  him, 
good  blood  in  his  veins,  the  tricks  of  a  man  of  breeding, 
the  carriage  and  voice  of  a  gentleman,  why,  in  Heaven's 
name  for  these  things  should  he  look  upon  me  as  some- 
thing crawling  upon  the  face  of  the  earth  —  something 
to  be  spurned  aside  whenever  it  should  cross  his  path?  I 
have  lived  and  spoken  falsehoods.  The  greatest  men  in 
the  world  have  lived  and  spoken  falsehoods.  But  I  am 
not  a  charlatan.  I  have  mastered  the  rudiments  of  a 
great  and  mighty  new  science.  I  am  not  a  trickster.  I 
have  a  claim  to  live,  as  he  has.  There  is  a  place  in  the 
world  for  me,  too,  as  well  as  for  him.  You  know  what 
he  has  told  me?  You  know  with  what  he  has  threatened 
me?  He  has  told  me  that  if  he  even  sees  you  and  me 
together,  that  if  I  even  dare  to  find  my  way  into  your 
presence,  that  he  will  horsewhip  me.  This  because  he  has 
muscles  and  I  have  none.  Yet  you  ask  me  why  I  desire 
to  kill  him!  I  have  had  only  one  desire  in  my  life 
stronger  than  that,  one  thing  in  my  life  more  intense 
than  my  hatred  of  this  man." 

"  You  are  both  in  the  wrong,"  she  said.  "  Henry 
Rochester  is  a  straight-living,  God-fearing  man,  a  little 
narrow  in  his  views,  and  a  little  violent  in  his  prejudices. 
You  are  a  person  such  as  he  would  not  understand,  such 
as  he  never  could  understand.  You  and  he  could  never 
possibly  come  into  sympathy.  He  is  wrong  when  he  ut- 
ters such  threats.  Yet  you  must  remember  that  there  is 
Lois.  He  has  the  right  there  to  say  what  he  will." 

"  There  is  Lois,  yes  !  "  Saton  repeated. 


SPOKEN    FROM    THE    HEART        229 

"  You  wish  to  marry  her,  don't  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  question  seemed  to  madden  him.  Suddenly  he  threw 
aside  the  almost  unnatural  restraint  with  which  he  had 
spoken  and  acted  since  his  entrance  into  the  room.  He 
rose  to  his  feet.  He  stood  before  her  couch  with  clenched 
hands,  with  features  working  spasmodically  as  the  words 
poured  from  his  lips. 

"  Listen,"  he  said.  "  I  have  no-  money.  I  have  lived 
partly  upon  the  woman  who  adopted  me,  and  partly  by 
nefarious  means.  Science  is  great,  it  is  fascinating,  it  is 
the  joy  of  my  life,  but  one  must  live.  I  have  tasted 
luxury.  I  cannot  live  as  a  workingman.  The  woman 
who  adopted  me  is  all  the  time  at  my  elbow,  telling  me 
that  I  must  marry  Lois  because  of  her  money.  The  child 
is  willing.  I  have  been  willing.'* 

"  To  marry  her  for  her  money  —  for  her  money 
only ! "  Pauline  exclaimed,  with  scorn  trembling  in  her 
tone. 

"  Absolutely  for  her  money  only ! "  Saton  answered. 
"  Now  you  know  how  poor  a  thing  I  am.  Yet  I  tell  you 
that  all  men  have  a  bad  spot  in  them.  I  tell  you  that 
I  am  dependent  upon  that  woman  for  every  penny  I 
spend,  and  for  the  clothes  I  wear.  When  I  tell  her  that 
I  will  not  marry  Lois  Champneyes,  she  will  very  likely 
throw  me  into  the  street.  What  is  there  left  for  me  to 
do?  I  have  tried  everything,  and  failed.  I  have  no 
strength,  I  have  a  cursed  taste  for  the  easy  ways  of  life. 
Yet  this  has  come  to  me.  I  will  not  marry  Lois  Champ- 
neyes. I  will  break  with  this  woman,  notwithstanding  all 
I  owe  to  her,  and  I  will  go  away  and  work  once  more, 


230  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

wherever  I  can  earn  enough  to  keep  me.  And  I  will  tell 
you  why.  I  haven't  a  good  quality  that  I  know  of.  I 
am  as  selfish  as  a  man  can  be.  I  am  a  murderer  at  heart, 
an  actor  most  of  the  time,  but  in  one  thing  I  am  honest.  I 
love  you,  Pauline  Marrabel!  I  can't  help  it.  It  is  the 
curse  of  my  life,  if  you  will,  but  it  is  the  joy  of  it. 
Rochester  knows  it,  and  he  hates  me.  I  know  that 
Rochester  loves  you,  and  I  hate  him.  Listen.  There  is  a 
man  who  believes  in  me  —  a  great  man.  I'll  go  to  him. 
I'll  work,  I'll  study,  I'll  write.  I'll  live  the  thoughts  I 
want  to  live.  I'll  shape  my  life  along  the  firm  straight 
lines.  I'll  make  a  better  thing  of  myself,  if  you'll  wait. 
Mind,  I  don't  ask  you  to  touch  me  now.  If  you  offered 
me  your  hands,  I  wouldn't  take  them.  I'm  not  fit.  But 
there  is  just  this  one  thing  in  me.  I  know  myself  and  I 
know  you.  Give  me  the  chance  to  climb !  " 

Time  seemed  to  stand  still  while  she  looked  at  him. 
Yes,  he  had  been  honest!  She  saw  him  stripped  of  all 
the  glamour  of  his  unusual  learning.  She  saw  him  as  he 
was  —  small,  false,  a  poor  creature,  who  having  failed 
on  the  mountains,  had  been  content  to  crawl  through  the 
marshes.  He  seemed  in  those  few  moments  to  be  stripped 
bare  to  her.  He  was  not  even  a  gentleman.  He  wore  his 
manners  as  he  wore  his  clothes.  He  belonged  to  her 
world  no  more  than  the  servant  who  had  announced  him. 
She  clenched  her  fingers.  It  was  ignoble  that  her  heart 
should  be  beating,  that  the  breath  should  come  sobbing 
through  her  parted  lips.  He  was  a  creature  to  be  de- 
spised ! 

She  raised  her  head  and  told  him  so,  fighting  all  the 


SPOKEN    FROM    THE    HEART        231 

while  with  something  greater  and  stronger  which  seemed 
to  be  tearing  at  her  heart  strings. 

"  If  that  is  what  you  came  here  to  say,"  she  said, 
"  please  go." 

He  rose  at  once.  She  saw  the  anxious  light  with  which 
his  eyes  had  been  filled,  fade  away.  He  turned  almost 
humbly  toward  the  door. 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  he  said.  "  I  should  not  have 
come.  I  do  not  often  have  impulses.  It  is  a  mistake  to 
listen  to  them.  Yet  I  came  because  it  was  the  one  honest 
desire  which  I  have  had  since  I  looked  down  into  the 
water  and  turned  away." 

He  walked  toward  the  door.  She  stood  with  her  finger 
pressing  the  bell.  He  seemed  somehow  to  have  lost  what 
little  presence  he  had  ever  possessed.  His  head  was 
bowed ;  he  walked  as  one  feeling  for  his  way  in  the  dark. 
Never  once  did  he  look  round.  As  he  stood  before  the 
door,  her  lips  were  suddenly  parted.  A  great  wave  of 
pity  rose  up  from  amongst  those  other  things  in  her 
heart.  She  would  have  called  out  to  him,  but  her  butler 
was  already  there.  The  door  had  been  opened. 

She  clenched  her  teeth,  and  resumed  her  place  upon  the 
sofa.  She  heard  the  front  door  closed,  and  she  found 
herself  watching  him  through  the  blind.  She  saw  him 
cross  the  road  very  much  as  he  had  crossed  the  room  — 
unseeing,  stricken.  She  watched  him  until  he  crossed  the 
corner  of  the  square.  Her  eyes  were  misty  with  tears ! 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE  COUEAGE  OF  DESPERATION 

CAPTAIN  VANDERMERE  had  a  friend  from 
the  country,  and  was  giving  him  supper  at  the 
Savoy.  He  was  also  pointing  out  the  different 
people  who  were  worthy  of  note. 

"  That,"  he  said,  pointing  to  an  adjoining  table,  "  is 
really  one  of  the  most  interesting  men  in  London." 

u  He  looks  like  an  actor,"  his  friend  remarked. 

"  So  he  may  be,"  Vandermere  answered  grimly,  "  but 
his  is  not  the  Thespian  stage.  He  is  a  lecturer  and  writer 
on  occultism,  and  in  his  way,  I  suppose,  he  is  amazingly 
clever." 

"Do  you  mean  Bertrand  Saton?  "  his  friend  asked, 
with  interest. 

Vandermere  nodded. 

"  You  have  heard  the  fellow's  name,  of  course,"  he 
said.  "  For  the  last  month  or  so  one  seems  to  meet  him 
everywhere,  and  in  all  sorts  of  society.  The  illustrated 
papers,  and  even  the  magazines,  have  been  full  of  the 
fellow's  photograph.  Women  especially  seem  to  regard 
him  as  something  supernatural.  Look  at  the  way  they 
are  hanging  upon  his  words  now.  That  is  the  old  Duch- 
ess of  Ampthill  on  his  left,  and  the  others  are  all  decent 
enough  people  of  a  sort." 


THE   COURAGE   OF   DESPERATION       233 

"  I  gather  from  your  tone,"  his  friend  remarked, 
"  that  the  young  man  is  not  a  favorite  of  yours." 

"  He  is  not,"  Vandermere  answered.  "  I  don't  under- 
stand the  breed,  and  that's  a  fact.  Apart  from  that,  he 
has  had  the  confounded  impertinence  to  make  love  to 
—  to  a  very  charming  young  lady  of  my  acquaintance." 

"  He  isn't  particularly  good-looking,"  the  friend  re- 
marked — "  striking  I  suppose  people  would  say." 

"  He  has  a  sort  of  unwholesome  way  of  attracting 
women,"  Vandermere  remarked.  "  Look  how  they  all 
manoeuvre  to  walk  out  with  him." 

Saton  was  exercising  his  rights  as  lion  of  the  party, 
and  leaving  early.  The  Duchess  whispered  something  in 
his  ear,  at  which  he  only  laughed.  Half-a-dozen  invita- 
tions were  showered  upon  him,  which  he  accepted  con- 
ditionally. 

"  I  never  accept  invitations,"  he  said,  "  except  with  a 
proviso.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  never  can  tell  exactly 
when  I  shall  want  to  work,  and  when  the  feeling  for 
work  comes,  everything  else  must  go.  It  is  not  always 
that  one  is  in  the  right  mood." 

"  How  interesting !  "  one  of  the  women  sighed. 

"  Must  be  like  writing  poetry,  only  far  more  ex- 
citing," another  murmured. 

"  Tell  me,"  a  girl  asked  him,  as  he  stooped  over  her 
fingers  to  say  good  night,  "  is  it  really  true,  Mr.  Saton, 
that  if  you  liked  you  could  make  me  do  things  even 
against  my  will  —  that  you  could  put  ideas  into  my 
head  which  I  should  be  forced  to  carry  out  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 


^34  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  And  you  never  make   use  of  your  power? " 

"  Very  seldom,"  he  answered.  "  That  is  the  chicanery 
•of  science.  It  is  because  people  when  they  have  discov- 
ered a  little  are  so  anxious  to  exploit  their  knowledge, 
that  they  never  go  any  further.  It  is  very  easy  indeed 
to  dominate  the  will  of  certain  individuals,  but  what  we 
really  want  to  understand  before  we  use  our  power,  is 
the  law  that  governs  it.  Good  night,  once  more !  " 

"  A  wonderful  man ! "  they  sighed  one  to  another  as 
he  passed  out. 

"  I  am  one  of  the  few,"  the  Duchess  remarked  com- 
placently, "  who  has  seen  a  real  manifestation  of  his 
powers.  It  is  true,"  she  added,  with  a  little  shudder, 
*'  there  was  a  mistake  toward  the  end.  The  experiment 
wasn't  wholly  successful,  but  it  was  wonderful,  all  the 
same  —  wonderful !  " 

Saton  left  the  restaurant,  and  entered  the  small  electric 
brougham  which  was  waiting  for  him.  He  lit  a  cigarette 
and  leaned  back  amongst  the  cushions,  musing  over  the 
events  of  the  evening  with  a  complacent  smile.  The  last 
few  weeks  seemed  to  have  wrought  some  subtle  change 
in  the  man.  His  face  was  at  once  stronger  and  weaker, 
more  determined,  and  yet  in  a  sense  less  trustworthy.  His 
manner  had  gained  in  assertion,  his  bearing  in  confidence. 
There  was  an  air  of  resolve  about  him,  as  though  he 
knew  exactly  where  he  was  going  —  how  far,  and  in 
what  direction.  And  with  it  all  he  had  aged.  There  were 
lines  under  his  eyes,  and  his  face  was  worn  —  at  times 
almost  haggard. 


THE   COURAGE   OF   DESPERATION       235 

He  let  himself  into  the  little  house  in  Berkeley  Square 
with  his  latchkey,  and  turned  at  once  into  Rachael's  room. 
She  was  sitting  over  the  fire  in  a  brilliant  red  dressing- 
gown,  her  head  elaborately  coiffured,  her  fingers  and 
neck  brilliant  with  jewels.  Yet  when  she  turned  her  head 
one  saw  a  change.  Age  had  laid  its  grip  upon  her  at  last. 
Her  voice  had  lost  its  decision.  Her  hands  trembled  in 
her  lap. 

"  You  are  late,  Bertrand,"  she  said  — "  very  late." 

"  Not  so  very,"  he  answered.  "  I  have  been  supping 
at  the  Savoy  with  the  Duchess  of  Ampthill  and  some 
friends." 

She  looked  at  him  searchingly,  looked  at  him  from 
head  to  foot,  noted  the  trim  exactness  of  his  evening 
attire,  and  his  enamel  links  and  waistcoat  buttons,  the 
air  of  confidence  with  which  he  crossed  the  room  to  mix 
himself  a  whiskey  and  soda.  It  was  she  who  had  been 
like  that  a  few  months  ago,  and  he  the  timid  one.  They 
seemed  to  have  changed  places. 

"  Bertrand,"  she  said,  "  you  frighten  me.  You  go  so 
far,  nowadays." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  answered. 

"  Huntley  has  been  here  to-night,"  she  went  on.  "  He 
tells  me  that  you  have  opened  even  another  place,  and 
that  all  the  old  ones  are  going.  He  tells  me  that  the  of- 
fices are  hard  at  work,  too." 

"  Business  is  good,"  remarked  Saton,  drily. 

"  I  thought  that  we  were  going  quietly  for  a  time," 
she  said.  "  It  was  you  who  were  so  terrified  at  the  risk. 
Do  you  imagine  that  the  danger  is  over?  " 


236  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

"  My  dear  Rachael,"  he  answered,  coming  over  to  her, 
"  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  I  was  over-timid. 
There  is  no  success  in  life  to  be  won  without  daring. 
Money  we  must  have,  and  these  places  are  like  a  gold 
mine  to  us.  If  things  go  wrong,  we  must  take  our 
chance.  I  am  content.  In  the  meantime,  for  all  our  sakes, 
it  suits  me  to  be  in  evidence  everywhere.  The  papers 
publish  my  portrait,  the  Society  journals  record  my 
name,  people  point  me  out  at  the  theatres  and  at  the 
restaurants.  This  is  not  vanity  —  this  is  business.  I  am 
giving  a  lecture  the  week  after  next,  and  every  seat  is 
already  taken.  I  am  going  to  say  some  daring  things. 
Afterwards,  I  am  going  to  Naudheim  for  a  month. 
When  I  come  back,  I  shall  give  another  lecture.  After 
that,  perhaps  these  places  will  not  be  necessary  any 
more.  But  who  can  tell?  Money  we  must  have,  money 
all  the  time.  Science  is  great,  but  men  and  women  must 
live." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  grim  smile. 

"  You  amuse  me,"  she  said.  "  Are  you  really  the  half- 
starved  boy  who  flung  himself  at  my  horses'  heads  in 
the  Bois?" 

"  I  am  what  the  Fates  have  made  of  that  boy." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  You  are  going  too  fast,"  she  said.  "  You  terrify 
me.  What  about  Lois  ?  " 

"  Lois  is  of  age  in  six  weeks,"  he  replied.  "  On 
the  day  she  is  of  age,  I  shall  go  to  Rochester  and  de- 
mand her  hand.  He  will  refuse,  of  course.  I  shall  marry 
her  at  once." 


THE   COURAGE   OF   DESPERATION       237 

"  Why  not  now  ?  "  Rachael  asked.  "  Why  wait  a  day  ? 
The  money  will  come  later." 

"  I  will  tell  you  why,"  Saton  answered.  "  Because  I 
have  ambitions,  and  because  it  would  do  them  harm  if 
people  believed  that  I  had  exercised  any  sort  of  influ- 
ence to  make  that  girl  marry  me  against  her  guardian's 
wishes.  I  do  use  my  influence  as  it  is,  although,"  he 
added,  frowning,  "  I  find  it  harder  every  day.  She 
walked  with  me  in  the  Park  this  morning ;  she  came  to 
tea  with  me  the  day  before." 

"  What  do  you  mean  when  you  say  that  you  find  it 
harder?  "  Rachael  asked. 

"  I  mean  that  I  have  lost  some  of  my  hold  over  her," 
he  answered.  "  It  is  the  sort  of  thing  which  is  likely  to 
happen  at  any  time.  She  has  very  weak  receptive  cur- 
rents. It  is  like  trying  to  drive  water  with  a  sieve." 

"  You  must  not  fail,"  she  muttered.  "  I  am  nervous 
these  days.  I  would  rather  you  were  married  to  Lois, 
and  her  money  was  in  the  bank,  and  that  these  places  were 
closed.  I  start  when  the  bell  rings.  Huntley  himself  said 
that  you  were  rash." 

"  Huntley  is  a  fool,"  Saton  answered.  "  Let  me  help 
you  upstairs,  Rachael." 

He  passed  his  arm  around  her  affectionately,  and 
kissed  her  when  they  parted  for  the  night.  Then  he  came 
down  to  his  little  room,  and  sat  for  a  time  at  his  desk, 
piled  with  books  and  works  of  reference.  He  brooded 
gloomily  for  several  moments  over  what  Rachael  had 
been  saying.  A  knock  at  the  door  made  him  start.  It  was 
only  a  servant,  come  to  see  to  the  fire,  but  his  hand  had 


238  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

darted  out  toward  a  certain  drawer  of  his  desk.  When 
the  servant  had  retired,  he  opened  it  for  a  minute  and 
looked  in.  A  small  shining  revolver  lay  there,  and  a  box 
of  cartridges. 

"  Your  idea,  my  friend  Rochester ! "  he  muttered  to 
himself. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

A    SURPRISING    REQUEST 

THE  Duchess  of  Ampthill  was  giving  a  great 
dinner-party  at  her  house  in  Grosvenor  Square. 
She  had  found  several  new  prodigies,  and  one 
of  them  was  performing  in  a  most  satisfactory  manner. 
He  sat  at  her  left  hand,  and  though,  unlike  Saton,  he  had 
at  first  been  shy,  the  continual  encouragement  of  his 
hostess  had  eventually  produced  the  desired  result.  His 
name  was  Chalmers,  and  he  was  the  nephew  of  a  bishop. 
He  had  taken  a  double  first  at  Oxford,  and  now  an- 
nounced his  intention  of  embracing  literature  as  a  pro- 
fession. He  wore  glasses,  and  he  was  still  very  young. 

"  There  is  no  doubt  at  all,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  a  re- 
mark from  the  Duchess,  "  that  London  has  reached  just 
that  stage  in  her  development  as  a  city  of  human  beings, 
which  was  so  fatal  to  some  of  her  predecessors  in  pre- 
eminence, some  of  those  ancient  cities  of  which  there  ex- 
ists to-day  only  the  name.  The  blood  in  her  arteries  is  no 
longer  robust.  Already  the  signs  of  decay  are  plentiful." 

"  I  wonder,"  Rochester  inquired,  "  what  you  consider 
your  evidences  are  for  such  a  statement.  To  a  poor  out- 
sider like  myself,  for  instance,  London  seems  to  have  all 
the  outward  signs  of  an  amazingly  prosperous  —  one 
might  almost  say  a  splendidly  progressive  city." 


240  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

Chalmers  smiled.  It  was  a  smile  he  had  cultivated 
when  contradicted  at  the  Union,  and  he  knew  its  weight. 

"  From  a  similar  point  of  view,"  he  said,  "  as  yours, 
Mr.  Rochester,  Rome  and  Athens,  Nineveh,  and  those 
more  ancient  cities,  presented  the  same  appearance  of 
prosperity.  Yet  if  you  ask  for  signs,  there  are  surely 
many  to  be  seen.  I  am  anxious,"  he  continued,  gazing 
around  him  with  an  air  of  bland  enjoyment,  "  to  avoid 
anything  in  the  nature  of  an  epigram.  There  is  nothing 
so  unconvincing,  so  stultifying  to  one's  statements,  as 
to  express  them  epigrammatically.  People  at  once  give 
you  credit  for  an  attempt  at  intellectual  gymnastics 
which  takes  no  regard  to  the  truth.  I  will  not,  therefore, 
weary  you  with  a  diatribe  upon  the  condition  of  that 
heterogeneous  mass  which  is  known  to-day  as  Society. 
I  will  simply  point  out  to  you  one  of  the  portents  which 
has  inevitably  heralded  disaster.  I  mean  the  restless 
searching  everywhere  for  new  things  and  new  emotions. 
Our  friend  opposite,"  he  said,  bowing  to  Saton,  "  will 
forgive  me  if  I  instance  the  almost  passionate  interest  in 
this  new  science  which  he  is  making  brave  efforts  to  give 
to  the  world.  A  lecture  to-day  from  Mr.  Bertrand  Saton 
would  fill  any  hall  in  London.  And  why?  Simply  be- 
cause the  people  know  that  he  will  speak  to  them  of  new 
things.  Look  at  this  man  Father  Cresswell.  There  is  no 
building  in  this  great  city  which  would  hold  the  crowds 
who  flock  to  his  meetings.  And  why?  Simply  because  he 
has  adopted  a  new  tone  —  because  in  place  of  the  old 
methods,  he  stands  in  his  pulpit  with  a  lash,  and  wields 
it  like  a  Russian  executioner." 


A    SURPRISING   REQUEST  241 

Lady  Mary  interrupted  him  suddenly  from  her  place 
a  little  way  down  the  table. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  agree  with  you ! "  she  said.  "  Indeed,  I 
think  you  are  wrong.  The  reason  why  people  go  to  hear 
Father  Cresswell  is  not  because  he  has  anything  new  to 
say,  or  any  new  way  of  saying  it.  The  real  reason  is  be- 
cause he  has  the  gift  of  showing  them  the  truth.  You 
can  be  told  things  very  often,  and  receive  a  great  many 
warnings,  but  you  take  no  notice.  There  is  something 
wrong  about  the  method  of  delivering  them.  It  is  not  the 
lash  which  Father  Cresswell  uses,  but  it  is  his  extraor- 
dinary gift  of  impressing  one  with  the  truth  of  what  he 
says,  that  has  had  such  an  effect  upon  everyone." 

Rochester  looked  across  at  his  wife  curiously.  It  was 
almost  the  first  time  that  he  had  ever  heard  her  speak 
upon  a  serious  subject.  Now  he  came  to  think  of  it,  he 
remembered  that  she  had  been  spending  much  of  her  time 
lately  listening  to  this  wonderful  enthusiast.  Was  he 
really  great  enough  to  have  influenced  so  light  a  crea- 
ture, he  wondered?  Certainly  there  was  something 
changed  in  her.  He  had  noticed  it  during  the  last  few 
days  —  an  odd  sort  of  nervousness,  a  greater  kindness  of 
speech,  an  unaccustomed  gravity.  Her  remark  set  him 
thinking. 

Chalmers  leaned  forward  and  bowed  to  Lady  Mary. 
Again  the  shadow  of  a  tolerant  smile  rested  upon  his  lips. 

"  Very  well,  Lady  Mary,"  he  said,  "  I  will  accept  the 
truth  of  what  you  say.  Yet  a  few  decades  ago,  who 
cared  about  religion,  or  hearing  the  truth?  It  is  simply 
because  the  men  and  women  of  Society  have  exhausted 


242  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

every  means  of  self-gratification,  that  in  a  sort  of  un- 
wholesome reaction  they  turn  towards  the  things  as  far 
as  possible  removed  from  those  with  which  they  are  sur- 
feited. But  I  will  leave  Father  Cresswell  alone.  I  will  ask 
you  whether  it  is  not  the  bizarre,  the  grotesque  in  art, 
which  to-day  wins  most  favor.  I  will  turn  to  the  making 
of  books  —  I  avoid  the  term  literature  —  and  I  will  ask 
you  whether  it  is  not  the  extravagant,  the  impossible,  the 
deformed,  in  style  and  matter,  which  is  most  eagerly  read. 
The  simplest  things  in  life  should  convince  one.  The 
novelist's  hero  is  no  longer  the  fine,  handsome  young  fel- 
low of  twenty  years  ago.  He  is  something  between  forty 
and  fifty,  if  not  deformed,  at  least  decrepit  with  dissipa- 
tions, and  with  the  gift  of  fascination,  whatever  that  may 
mean,  in  place  of  the  simpler  attributes  of  a  few  decades 
ago.  And  the  heroine !  —  There  is  no  more  book-muslin 
and  innocence.  She  has,  as  a  rule,  green  eyes ;  she  is  mid- 
dle-aged, and  if  she  has  not  been  married  before,  she  has 
had  her  affairs.  Everything  obvious  in  life,  from  poli- 
tics to  mutton-chops,  is  absolutely  barred  by  anyone  with 
any  pretensions  to  intellect  to-day." 

"  One  wonders,"  Rochester  murmured,  "  how  in  the 
course  of  your  long  life,  Mr.  Chalmers,  you  have  been 
able  to  see  so  far  and  truthfully  into  the  heart  of 
things ! " 

Chalmers  bowed. 

"  Mr.  Rochester,"  he  said,  "  it  is  the  newcomer  in  life, 
as  in  many  other  things,  who  sees  most  of  the  game." 

The  conversation  drifted  away.  Rochester  was  re- 
minded of  it  only  when  driving  home  that  night  with  his 


A    SURPRISING   REQUEST  243 

wife.  Again,  as  they  took  their  places  in  the  electric 
brougham,  he  was  conscious  of  something  changed,  not 
only  in  the  woman  herself,  but  in  her  demeanor  towards 
him. 

"  Do  you  mind,"  he  asked,  soon  after  they  started, 
"just  dropping  me  at  the  club?  It  is  scarcely  out  of 
your  way,  and  I  feel  that  I  need  a  whiskey  and  soda,  and 
a  game  of  billiards,  to  take  the  taste  of  that  young  man's 
talk  out  of  my  mouth.  What  a  sickly  brood  of  chickens 
the  Duchess  does  encourage,  to  be  sure !  " 

"  I  wonder  if  you'd  mind  not  going  to  the  club  to- 
night, Henry?  "  Lady  Mary  asked  quietly. 

He  turned  toward  her  in  surprise. 

"  Why,  certainly  not,"  he  answered.  "  Have  we  to  go 
on  anywhere?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  No !  "  she  said.  "  Only  I  feel  I'd  like  to  talk  to  you 
for  a  little  time,  if  you  don't  mind.  It's  nothing  very 
much,"  she  continued,  nervously  twisting  her  handker- 
chief between  her  fingers. 

"  I'll  come  home  with  pleasure,"  Rochester  interrupted. 
"  Don't  look  so  scared,"  he  added,  patting  the  back  of 
her  hand  gently.  "  You  know  very  well,  if  there  is  any 
little  trouble,  I  shall  be  delighted  to  help  you  out." 

She  did  not  remove  her  hand,  but  she  looked  out  of  the 
window.  What  she  wanted  to  say  seemed  harder  than 
ever.  And  after  all,  was  it  worth  while?  It  would  mean 
giving  up  a  very  agreeable  side  to  life.  It  would  mean 
—  Her  thoughts  suddenly  changed  their  course.  Once 
more  she  was  sitting  upon  that  very  uncomfortable 


244  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

bench  in  the  great  city  hall.  Once  more  she  felt  that  curi- 
ous new  sensation,  some  answering  vibration  in  her  heart 
to  the  wonderful,  passionate  words  which  were  bringing 
tears  to  the  eyes  not  only  of  the  women,  but  of  the  men, 
by  whom  she  was  surrounded.  No,  it  was  not  an  art,  this 
—  a  trick !  No  acting  was  great  enough  to  have  touched 
the  hearts  of  all  this  time  and  sin-hardened  multitude.  It 
was  the  truth  —  simply  the  truth. 

"  It  isn't  exactly  a  little  thing,  Henry.  I'll  tell  you 
about  it  when  we  get  home." 

No,  it  was  no  little  thing,  Rochester  thought  to  him- 
self, as  he  stood  upon  the  hearthrug  of  her  boudoir,  and 
listened  to  the  woman  who  sat  on  the  end  of  the  sofa  a 
few  feet  away  as  she  talked  to  him.  Sometimes  her  eyes 
were  raised  to  his  —  eyes  whose  color  seemed  more  beau- 
tiful because  of  the  tears  in  them.  Sometimes  her  head 
was  almost  buried  in  her  hands.  But  she  talked  all  the 
time  —  an  odd,  disconnected  sort  of  monologue,  half 
confession,  half  appeal.  There  was  little  in  it  which 
seemed  of  any  great  moment,  and  yet  to  Rochester  it  was 
as  though  he  were  face  to  face  with  a  tragedy.  This 
woman  was  asking  him  much ! 

"  I  know  so  well,"  she  said,  "  what  a  useless,  frivolous, 
miserable  sort  of  life  mine  has  been,  and  I  know  so  well 
that  I  haven't  made  the  least  attempt,  Henry,  to  be  a 
good  wife  to  you.  That  wasn't  altogether  my  fault,  was 
it?  "  she  asked  pleadingly.  "  Do  tell  me  that." 

"  It  was  not  your  fault  at  all,"  he  answered  gravely. 
"  It  was  part  of  our  arrangement." 


A    SURPRISING   REQUEST  245 

"  I  am  afraid,"  she  said,  "  that  it  was  a  very  unholy, 
a  very  wicked  arrangement,  only  you  see  I  was  badly 
brought  up,  and  it  seemed  to  me  so  natural,  such  an  ex- 
cellent way  of  providing  a  good  time  for  myself,  to 
marry  you,  and  to  owe  you  nothing  except  one  thing. 
Henry,  you  will  believe  this,  I  know.  I  have  flirted  very 
badly,  and  I  have  had  many  of  those  little  love-affairs 
which  every  woman  I  know  indulges  in  —  silly  little  af- 
fairs just  to  pass  away  the  time,  and  to  make  one  believe 
that  one  is  living.  But  I  have  never  really  cared  for  any- 
body, and  these  little  follies,  although  I  suppose  they  are 
such  a  waste  of  emotion  and  truthfulness  and  real  feel- 
ing, haven't  amounted  to  very  much,  Henry.  You  know 
what  I  mean.  It  is  so  difficult  to  say.  But  you  believe 
that?" 

"  I  believe  it  from  my  soul,"  he  answered. 

"  You  see,"  she  went  on,  "  it  seemed  to  me  all  right,  be- 
cause there  was  no  one  to  point  out  how  foolish  and  silly 
it  was  to  play  one's  way  through  life  as  though  it  were  a 
nursery,  and  we  children,  and  to  forget  that  we  were 
grown-up,  and  that  we  were  getting  older  with  the  years. 
You  have  been  quite  content  without  me,  Henry  ?  "  she 
asked,  looking  up  at  him  wistfully. 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  content ! "  he  admitted,  looking 
away  from  her,  looking  out  of  the  room.  "  I  have  been 
content,  after  a  fashion." 

"  Ours  was  such  a  marriage  of  convenience,"  she  went 
on,  "  and  you  were  so  very  plain-spoken  about  it,  Henry. 
I  feel  somehow  as  though  I  were  breaking  a  compact 
when  I  turn  round  and  ask  you  whether  it  is  not  possible 


246  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

that  we  might  be,  perhaps,  some  day,  a  little  more  to  one 
another.  You  know  why  I  am  almost  afraid  to  say  this. 
It  has  not  been  with  you  as  it  has  been  with  me.  I  have 
always  felt  that  she  has  been  there  —  Pauline." 

She  was  tearing  little  bits  from  the  lace  of  her  hand- 
kerchief. Her  eyes  sought  his  fearfully. 

"  Don't  think,  when  I  say  that,"  she  continued,  "  that 
I  say  it  with  any  idea  of  blaming  you.  You  told  me  that 
you  loved  Pauline  when  we  were  engaged,  and  of  course 
she  was  married  then,  and  one  did  not  expect  —  it  never 
seemed  likely  that  she  might  be  free.  And  now  she  is 
free,"  Lady  Mary  went  on,  with  a  little  break  in  her 
voice,  "  and  I  am  here,  your  wife,  and  I  am  afraid  that 
you  love  her  still  so  much  that  what  I  am  saying  to  you 
must  sound  very,  very  unwelcome.  Tell  me,  Henry.  Is 
that  so?" 

Rochester  was  touched.  It  was  impossible  not  to  feel 
the  sincerity  of  her  words.  He  sank  on  one  knee,  and 
took  her  hands  in  his. 

"  Mary,"  he  said,  "  this  is  all  so  surprising.  I  did  not 
expect  it.  We  have  lived  so  long  and  gone  our  own  ways, 
and  you  have  seemed  until  just  lately  so  utterly  content, 
that  I  quite  forgot  that  anywhere  in  this  butterfly  little 
body  there  might  be  such  a  thing  as  a  soul.  Will  you 
give  me  time,  dear?  " 

"  All  the  time  you  ask  for,"  she  answered.  "  Oh !  I 
know  that  I  am  asking  a  great  deal,  but  you  see  I  am  not 
a  very  strong  person,  and  if  I  give  up  everything  else,  I 
do  want  someone  to  lean  on  just  a  little.  You  are  very 
strong,  Henry,"  she  added,  softly. 


A    SURPRISING   REQUEST  247 

He  took  her  face  between  his  hands,  and  he  kissed  her, 

without  passion,  yet  kindly,  even  tenderly. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  "  I  must  think  this  thing  out. 

At  any  rate,  we  might  start  by  seeing  a  little  more  of  one 

another?  " 

"  Yes !  "  she  answered  shyly.  "  I  should  like  that." 
"  I  will  drive  you  down  to  Ranelagh  to-morrow,"  he 

said,  "  alone,  and  we  will  have  lunch  there." 

"  I  shall  love  it,"  she  answered.  "  Good  night ! " 
She  kissed  him  timidly,  and  flitted  away  into  her  room 

with  a  little  backward  glance  and  a  wave  of  the  hand. 

Rochester  stood  where  she  had  left  him,  watching  the 

place  where  she  had  disappeared,  with  the  look  in  his  eyes 

of  a  man  who  sees  a  ghost. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

BETWEEN    LOVE   AND   DUTY 

ROCHESTER'S  hansom  set  him  down  in  Cado- 
gan  Street  just  as  a  new  and  very  handsome 
motor-car  moved  slowly  away  from  the  door. 
His  face  darkened  as  he  recognised  Saton  leaning  back 
inside,  and  he  ignored  the  other's  somewhat  exaggerated 
and  half  ironical  greeting. 

"  Lady  Marrabel  is  '  at  home '  ?  "  he  asked  the  butler, 
who  knew  him  well. 

The  man  hesitated. 

"  She  will  see  you,  no  doubt,  sir,"  he  remarked.  "  We 
had  our  orders  that  she  was  not  '  at  home '  this  after- 
noon." 

"  The  gentleman  who  has  just  left — "  Rochester  be- 
gan. 

"  Mr.  Saton,"  the  butler  interrupted.  "  He  has  been 
with  Lady  Marrabel  for  some  time." 

Rochester  found  himself  face  to  face  with  Pauline,  but 
it  was  a  somewhat  grim  smile  with  which  he  welcomed  her. 

"  Still  fascinated,  I  see,  by  the  new  science,  my  dear 
Pauline,"  he  said.  "  I  met  your  professor  outside.  He 
has  a  fine  new  motor-car.  I  imagine  that  after  all  he  has 
discovered  the  way  to  extract  money  from  science." 

Pauline  shrugged  her  shoulders. 


BETWEEN    LOVE   AND    DUTY       249 

"  Those  are  matters  which  do  not  concern  me,"  she  said 
— "  I  might  add,  do  not  interest  me.  You  are  the  only 
man  I  know  who  disputes  Mr.  Satoirs  position,  and  you 
are  wrong.  He  is  wonderfully,  marvelously  gifted." 

Rochester  bowed  slightly. 

"Perhaps,"  he  said,  "  I  judge  the  man,  and  not  his 
attainments." 

"  You  are  very  provincial,"  she  declared.  "  But  come, 
don't  let  us  quarrel.  You  did  not  come  here  to  talk  about 
Mr.  Saton." 

"  No ! "  Rochester  answered.  "  I  had  something  else 
to  say  to  you." 

His  tone  excited  her  curiosity.  She  looked  at  him  more 
closely,  and  realized  that  he  had  indeed  come  upon  some 
mission. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "what  has  happened?  Is  it " 

She  broke  off  in  her  sentence.  Rochester  stood  quite 
still,  as  though  passionately  anxious  to  understand  the 
meaning  of  that  interrupted  thought. 

"  It  is  about  Mary,"  he  said. 

"  Yes  ?  "  Pauline  whispered.  "  Go  on.  Go  on,  please." 

"  It  is  something  quite  unexpected,"  Rochester  said 
slowly  — "  something  which  I  can  assure  you  that  her 
conduct  has  never  at  any  time  in  any  way  suggested." 

"  She  wants  to  leave  you  ?  "  Pauline  asked,  breath- 
lessly. 

"  On  the  contrary,"  Rochester  said,  "  she  wants  what 
she  has  never  asked  for  or  expected  —  something,  in 
fact,  which  was  not  in  our  marriage  bond.  She  has  been 
going  to  this  man  Father  Cresswell's  meetings.  She  is 


250  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

talking  about  our  duty,  about  making  the  best  of  one 
another." 

Pauline  was  amazed.  Certainly  no  thought  of  this 
kind  had  ever  entered  into  her  head. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  she  said,  "  that  Mary  wants  to  give 
up  her  silly  little  flirtations,  and  turn  serious  ?  " 

"  That  is  exactly  what  she  says,"  Rochester  an- 
swered. "  I  don't  believe  she  has  the  least  idea  that 
what  she  proposes  comes  so  near  to  tragedy." 

"  What  have  you  answered  ?  "  Pauline  asked. 

"  We  have  established  a  probationary  period,"  he  said. 
"  We  have  agreed  to  see  a  little  more  of  one  another.  I 
drove  her  down  to  Ranelagh  yesterday  afternoon,  and  we 
are  going  to  dine  together  to-night.  What  am  I  to  do, 
Pauline?  I  have  come  to  ask  you.  We  must  decide  it  to- 
gether, you  and  I." 

She  leaned  a  little  forward  in  her  chair.  Her  hands 
were  clasped  together.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  vacancy. 

"  It  is  a  thunderbolt,"  she  murmured. 

"  It  is  amazing." 

"  You  must  go  back  to  her." 

Rochester  drew  a  little  breath  between  his  teeth. 

"  Do  you  know  what  this  means  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  know !  "  she  answered.  "  And  yet  it  is  inevita- 
ble. What  have  you  and  I  to  look  forward  to?  Some- 
times I  think  that  it  is  weakness  to  see  so  much  of  one 
another." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  Rochester  said  slowly,  "  that  I  would 
sooner  have  you  for  my  dear  friend,  than  be  married 
to  any  woman  who  ever  lived." 


BETWEEN    LOVE   AND   DUTY       251 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said  softly.  "  I  wonder.  You  your- 
self," she  continued,  "  have  always  held  that  there  is  a 
certain  vulgarity,  a  certain  loss  of  fine  feeling  in  the 
consummation  of  any  attachment.  The  very  barrier  be- 
tween us  makes  our  intercourse  seem  sweeter  and  more 
desirable." 

"  And  yet,"  he  declared,  leaning  a  little  toward  her,. 
"  there  are  times  when  nature  will  be  heard  —  when  one 
realizes  the  great  call." 

"  You  are  right,"  she  answered  softly.  "  That  is  the 
terrible  part  of  it  all.  You  and  I  may  never  listen  to  it. 
We  have  to  close  our  ears,  to  beat  our  hands  and  hide, 
when  the  time  comes." 

"  And  is  it  worth  while,  I  wonder?  "  he  asked.  "  What 
do  we  gain " 

She  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Don't,  Henry,"  she  said  — "  don't,  especially  now. 
Be  thankful,  rather,  that  there  has  been  nothing  in  our 
great  friendship  which  need  keep  you  from  your  duty." 

"  You  mean  that  ?  "  he  asked  hoarsely. 

"  You  know  that  I  mean  it,"  she  answered.  "  You 
know  that  it  must  be." 

He  rose  to  his  feet  and  walked  to  the  window.  He  re- 
mained there  standing  alone,  for  several  minutes.  When 
he  came  back,  something  had  gone  from  his  face.  He 
moved  heavily.  He  had  the  air  of  an  older  man. 

"  Pauline,"  he  said,  "  you  send  me  away  easily.  Let  me 
tell  you  one  of  the  hard  thoughts  I  have  in  my  mind  — 
one  of  the  things  that  has  tortured  me.  I  have  fancied 
—  I  may  be  wrong  —  but  I  have  fancied  that  during 


252  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

the  last  few  months  you  have  been  slipping  away  from 
me.  I  have  felt  it,  somehow.  There  has  been  nothing 
tangible,  and  yet  I  have  felt  it.  Answer  me,  honestly. 
Is  this  true?  Is  what  I  have  told  you,  after  all,  some- 
thing of  a  relief?  " 

She  answered  him  volubly,  almost  hysterically.  Her 
manner  was  absolutely  foreign.  He  listened  to  her  prot- 
estations almost  in  bewilderment. 

"  It  is  not  true,  Henry.  You  cannot  mean  what  you 
are  saying.  I  have  always  been  the  same.  I  am  the  same 
now.  What  could  alter  me?  You  don't  believe  that  any- 
thing could  alter  me?  " 

"  Or  any  person  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Or  any  person,"  she  repeated,  hastily.  "  Go  through 
the  list  of  our  acquaintances,  if  you  will.  Have  I  ever 
shown  any  partiality  for  anyone?  You  cannot  honestly 
believe  that  I  have  not  been  faithful  to  our  unwritten 
compact?  " 

"  Sometimes,"  he  said  slowly,  "  I  have  had  a  horrible 
fear.  Pauline,  I  want  you  to  be  kind  to  me.  This  has 
been  a  blow.  I  cannot  easily  get  over  it.  Let  me  tell  you 
this.  One  of  the  reasons  —  the  great  reason  —  why  I 
fear  and  dread  this  coming  change,  is  because  it  may 
leave  you  more  susceptible  to  the  influence  of  that  per- 
son." 

"  You  mean  Mr.  Saton  ?  "  she  said. 

"  I  do,"  Rochester  answered.  "  Perhaps  I  ought  not 
to  have  mentioned  his  name.  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to 
have  said  anything  about  it.  But  there  the  whole  thing 
is.  If  I  thought  that  any  part  of  your  interest  in  the 


BETWEEN    LOVE    AND    DUTY       253 

man's  scientific  attainments  had  become  diverted  to  the 
man  himself,  I  should  feel  inclined  to  take  him  by  the 
neck  and  throw  him  into  the  Serpentine." 

She  said  nothing.  Her  face  had  become  very  still,  al- 
most expressionless.  Rochester  felt  his  heart  turn  cold. 

"  Pauline,"  he  said,  "  before  I  go  you  will  have  to  tell 
me  that  what  I  fear  could  not  come  to  pass.  Perhaps  you 
think  that  I  insult  you  in  suggesting  it.  This  young 
man  may  be  clever,  but  he  is  not  of  our  world  —  yours 
and  mine.  He  is  a  poseur  with  borrowed  manners,  -flam- 
boyant, a  quack  medicine  man  of  the  market  place.  He 
isn't  a  gentleman,  or  anything  like  one.  I  am  not  really 
afraid,  Pauline,  and  yet  I  need  reassurance." 

"  You  have  nothing  to  fear,"  she  answered  quietly. 
"  I  am  sorry,  Henry,  but  I  cannot  discuss  Mr.  Saton 
with  you.  Yet  don't  think  I  am  blind.  I  know  that  there 
is  truth  in  all  you  say.  Sometimes  little  things  about  him 
set  my  very  teeth  on  edge." 

Rochester  drew  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  So  long  as  you  realize  this,"  he  said,  "  so  long  as 
you  understand,  I  have  no  fear." 

Pauline  looked  away,  with  a  queer  little  smile  upon  her 
lips.  How  little  a  man  understood  even  the  woman  whom 
he  cared  for! 

"  Henry,"  she  said,  "  I  can  only  do  this.  I  can  give 
you  my  hands,  and  I  can  wish  you  happiness.  Go  on 
with  your  experiment  —  I  gather  that  for  the  moment  it 
is  only  an  experiment  ?  " 

"  That  is  all,"  he  answered. 

"  When  it  is  decided  one  way  or  the  other,"  she  con- 


254  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

tinned,  "  you  must  come  and  tell  me.  Please  go  away 
now.  I  want  to  be  alone." 

Rochester  kissed  her  hands,  and  passed  out  into  the 
street.  He  had  a  curious  and  depressing  conviction  that 
he  was  about  to  commence  a  new  chapter  of  his  life. 


CHAPTER  XXXH 

AT    THE    EDGE    OF    THE    PRECIPICE 

NAUDHEIM'S  disapproval  was  very  marked 
and  evident.  He  scoffed  at  the  great  bowl  of 
pink  roses  which  stood  upon  the  writing-table. 
He  pushed  scornfully  on  one  side  the  elegantly  shaped 
inkstand,  with  its  burden  of  pens ;  the  blotting-pad,  with 
its  silver  edges ;  the  piles  of  cream-laid  foolscap.  Most 
of  all  he  looked  with  scornful  disapprobation  at  his 
young  host. 

Saton  was  attired  for  his  morning  walk  in  the  Park. 
During  the  last  few  weeks  —  or  months,  perhaps  —  a 
touch  of  foppishness  had  crept  into  his  dress  —  a  fond- 
ness for  gray  silk  ties,  a  flower  in  his  buttonhole,  white 
linen  gaiters  drawn  carefully  over  his  patent  boots.  Cer- 
tainly the  contrast  between  this  scrupulously  dressed 
young  man  and  Naudheim,  bordered  upon  the  absurd. 
Naudheim  was  shabby,  unbrushed,  unkempt.  His  collar 
was  frayed,  he  wore  no  tie.  The  seams  of  his  long  black 
frock-coat  had  been  parted  and  inked  over  and  parted 
again.  He  wore  carpet  slippers  and  untidy  socks.  There 
were  stains  upon  his  waistcoat. 

From  underneath  his  shaggy  gray  eyebrows  he  shot  a 
contemptuous  glance  at  his  host. 

"  My  young  friend,"  he  said,  "  you  are  growing  too 
fine.  I  cannot  work  here." 


256  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

"  Nonsense  !  "  Saton  answered,  a  little  uneasily.  "  You 
can  sweep  all  those  things  off  the  writing-table,  if  they 
seem  too  elaborate  for  you,  and  pitch  the  flowers  out  of 
the  window  if  you  like." 

"  Bah !  "  Naudheim  answered.  "  It  is  the  atmosphere. 
I  smell  it  everywhere.  This  is  not  the  house  for  thoughts. 
This  is  not  the  house  wherein  one  can  build.  My  young 
friend,  you  have  fallen  away.  You  are  like  all  the  others. 
You  listen  to  the  tin  music." 

"  I  think,"  Saton  answered,  "  that  the  work  which  I 
have  done  should  be  my  answer  to  you.  We  are  not  all 
made  alike.  If  I  find  it  easier  to  breathe  in  an  atmos- 
phere such  as  this,  then  that  is  the  atmosphere  which  I 
should  choose.  We  do  our  best  work  amidst  congenial  sur- 
roundings. You  in  your  den,  and  I  in  my  library,  can 
give  of  our  best." 

Naudheim  shook  his  head. 

"  You  are  a  fool,"  he  said.  "  As  for  your  work,  it  is 
clever,  fatally  clever.  When  I  read  what  you  sent  me 
last  month,  and  saw  how  clever  it  was,  I  knew  that  you 
were  falling  away.  That  is  why  I  came.  Now  I  have 
come,  I  understand.  Listen !  The  secrets  of  science  are 
won  only  by  those  who  seek  them,  like  children  who  in 
the  time  of  trouble  flee  to  their  mother's  arms.  Never  a 
mistress  in  the  world's  history  has  asked  more  from  man 
than  she  has  asked  or  has  had  more  to  give.  She  asks 
your  life,  your  thoughts,  your  passions  —  every  breath 
of  your  body  must  be  a  breath  of  desire  for  her  and  her 
alone.  You  think  that  you  can  strut  about  the  world,  a 
talking  doll,  pay  court  to  women,  listen  to  the  voices 


THE   EDGE    OF   THE   PRECIPICE      257 

that  praise  you,  smirk  your  way  through  the  days,  and 
all  the  time  climb.  My  young  friend,  no !  I  tell  you  no ! 
Don't  interrupt  me.  I  am  going  to  speak  my  say  and 
go." 

"  Go  ?  "  Saton  repeated.  "  Impossible  !  I  am  willing 
to  work.  I  will  work  now.  I  simply  thought  that  as  the 
morning  was  so  fine  we  might  walk  for  a  little  time  in  the 
sunshine.  But  that  is  nothing." 

Naudheim  shook  his  head. 

"  Not  one  word  do  I  speak  of  those  things  that  are 
precious  to  me,  in  this  house,"  he  declared.  "  I  tell  you 
that  its  atmosphere  would  choke  the  life  out  of  every 
thought  that  was  ever  conceived.  You  may  blind  others, 
even  yourself,  young  man,"  he  went  on,  "  but  I  know. 
You  are  a  renegade.  You  would  serve  two  mistresses.  I 
am  going." 

"  You  shall  not,"  Saton  declared.  "  This  is  absurd. 
Come,"  he  added,  trying  to  draw  his  arm  through  his 
visitor's,  "  we  will  go  into  another  room  if  this  one  an- 
noys you." 

Naudheim  stepped  back.  He  thrust  Saton  away  con- 
temptuously. He  was  the  taller  of  the  two  by  some 
inches,  and  his  eyes  flashed  with  scorn  as  he  turned  to- 
ward the  door. 

"  I  leave  this  house  at  once,"  he  said.  "  I  was  a  fool 
to  come,  but  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  you,  Bertrand 
Saton.  Don't  write  or  come  near  me  again  until  your 
sham  house  and  your  sham  life  are  in  ruins,  and  you 
yourself  in  the  wilderness.  I  may  take  you  to  my  heart 
again  then.  I  cannot  tell.  But  to-day  I  loathe  you.  You 


258  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

are  a  creature  of  no  account  —  a  foolish,  dazzled  moth. 
Don't  dare  to  ring  your  bells.  I  need  no  flunkeys  to  show 
me  the  way  to  the  door." 

Naudheim  strode  out,  as  a  prophet  of  sterner  days 
might  have  cast  the  dust  of  a  pagan  dancing  hall  from 
his  feet.  Saton  for  a  moment  was  staggered.  His  com- 
posure left  him.  He  walked  aimlessly  up  and  down  the 
room,  swinging  his  gloves  in  his  hand,  and  muttering  to 
himself. 

Then  Rachael  came  in.  She  walked  with  the  help  of 
two  sticks.  She  seemed  gaunter  and  thinner  than  ever, 
yet  her  eyes  had  lost  little  of  their  fire,  although  they 
seemed  set  deeper  in  the  caverns  of  her  face. 

"  Naudheim  has  gone,"  she  said.  "  What  is  wrong, 
Bertrand?  " 

"  Naudheim  is  impossible,"  Saton  answered.  "  He 
came  in  here  to  work  this  morning,  looked  around  the 
room,  and  began  to  storm.  He  objected  to  the  flowers,  to 
the  writing-table,  to  me.  He  has  shaken  the  dust  of  us 
off  his  feet,  and  gone  back  to  his  wretched  cabin  in 
Switzerland." 

She  leaned  on  her  sticks  and  looked  at  him. 

"  On  the  face  of  the  earth,"  she  said,  "  there  does  not 
breathe  a  fool  like  you." 

Saton's  expression  hardened. 

"  You,  too !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Well,  go  on." 

"  Can't  you  understand,"  the  woman  exclaimed,  her 
voice  shaking,  "  that  we  are  on  the  verge  of  a  precipice? 
Do  you  read  the  papers?  There  were  questions  asked 
last  night  in  the  House  about  what  they  called  these  for- 


THE   EDGE    OF   THE   PRECIPICE      259 

tune-telling  establishments.  Yet  everything  goes  on  with- 
out a  change  —  by  your  orders,  I  am  told.  Oh,  you  fool ! 
Huntley  knows  that  he  is  being  spied  upon.  In  Bond 
Street,  yesterday  alone,  three  detectives  called  at  differ- 
ent times.  The  thing  can't  go  on.  The  money  that  we 
should  save  ready  to  escape  at  the  end,  you  spend,  living 
like  this.  And  the  girl  Lois  —  you  are  letting  her  slip 
out  of  your  fingers." 

"  My  dear  Rachael,"  he  answered,  "  in  the  first  place, 
there  is  not  a  thread  of  evidence  to  connect  you  or  me 
with  any  one  of  these  places,  or  with  Huntley's  office. 
In  the  second  place,  I  am  not  letting  Lois  slip  out  of  my 
fingers.  She  will  be  of  age  in  three  weeks'  time,  and  on 
her  birthday  I  am  going  to  take  her  away  from  Roches- 
ter, whatever  means  I  have  to  use,  and  I  am  going  to 
marry  her  at  once.  You  think  that  I  am  reckless.  Well, 
one  must  live.  Remember  that  I  am  young  and  you  are 
old.  I  have  no  place  in  the  world  except  the  place  I  make 
for  myself.  I  cannot  live  in  a  pig-sty  amongst  the  snows 
like  Naudheim.  I  cannot  find  the  whole  elixir  of  life  in 
thoughts  and  solitude  as  he  does.  There  are  other  things 
—  other  things  for  men  of  my  age." 

"  You  sail  too  near  the  wind.  You  are  reckless." 

"  Perhaps  I  am,"  he  answered.  "  Life  in  ten  years' 
time  may  very  well  become  a  stranger  place  to  those  who 
are  alive  and  who  have  been  taught  the  truth.  But  life, 
even  as  we  know  it  to-day,  is  strange  enough.  Rachael, 
have  you  ever  loved  anyone?  " 

The  woman  seemed  to  become  nerveless.  She  sank  into 
a  chair. 


260  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

"  Of  the  past  I  do  not  speak,"  she  said  — "  I  choose 
never  to  speak." 

He  took  up  his  hat. 

"  No !  "  he  remarked.  "  One  sees  easily  enough  that 
there  are  things  in  your  past,  Rachael.  Sometimes  the 
memory  may  burn.  You  see,  I  am  living  through  those 
days  now.  The  fire  has  hold  of  me,  and  not  all  the  knowl- 
edge I  have  won,  not  all  the  dim  coming  secrets,  from 
before  the  face  of  which  some  day  I  will  tear  aside  the 
veil,  not  all  the  experiences  through  which  I  and  I  alone 
have  passed,  can  help  me  to-day.  So  perhaps,"  he  added, 
turning  toward  the  door,  "  I  am  a  little  reckless." 

Rachael  let  him  depart  without  uttering  a  word.  She 
turned  in  her  chair  to  watch  him  cross  the  square.  He 
was  drawing  on  his  light  kid  gloves.  His  silk  hat  was  a 
mirror  of  elegance.  His  gold-headed  stick  was  thrust  at 
exactly  the  right  angle  under  his  arm.  He  swaggered  a 
little  —  a  new  accomplishment,  and  he  had  the  air  of  one 
who  is  well  aware  that  he  graces  the  ground  he  treads 
upon. 

The  woman  looked  away  from  him,  and  with  a  slow, 
painful  movement  her  head  drooped  a  little  until  it 
reached  her  hands.  A  slight  shiver  seemed  to  pass 
through  her  body.  Then  she  was  still,  very  still  indeed. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  she  could  see  the  end ! 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

"  YOU  DO  NOT  BELIEVE  IN  ME  !  " 

SATON  deliberately  turned  into  the  Park,  and  saun- 
tered along  under  the  trees  in  the  wake  of  a 
throng  of  fashionable  promenaders.  He  ex- 
changed greetings  with  many  acquaintances,  and  here 
and  there  he  stopped  to  say  a  few  words.  He  noted,  as 
usual,  and  with  a  recurrence  of  his  constant  discontent, 
the  extraordinary  difference  in  the  demeanor  of  the 
women  and  the  men  of  his  acquaintance.  The  former, 
gracious  and  smiling,  accepted  him  without  reservation. 
Their  murmured  words  and  smiles  were  even  more  than 
gracious.  On  the  other  hand,  there  was  scarcely  a  man 
whose  manner  did  not  denote  a  certain  tolerance,  not  un- 
mixed with  contempt,  as  though,  indeed,  they  were  will- 
ing to  accept  the  fact  that  he  was  of  their  acquaintance, 
but  desired  at  the  same  time  to  emphasize  the  fact  that 
he  was  outside  the  freemasonry  of  their  class  —  a  freak, 
whom  they  acknowledged  on  sufferance,  as  they  might 
have  done  a  wonderful  lion-tamer,  or  a  music-hall  singer, 
or  a  steeplejack.  He  knew  very  well  that  there  was  not 
one  of  them  who  accepted  his  qualifications,  notwith- 
standing the  approval  of  their  womankind,  and  the 
knowledge  stung  him  bitterly. 

Presently  he  came  face  to  face  with  Lois,  walking  with 


262  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

Vandermere.  His  face  darkened  for  a  moment.  He  had 
expressed  his  desire  that  she  should  see  as  little  of  this 
young  man  as  possible,  and  here  they  were,  not  only 
walking  together,  but  laughing  and  talking  with  all  the 
easy  naturalness  of  old  acquaintanceship. 

Saton  drew  a  little  breath  of  anger  through  his  teeth 
as  he  paused  and  waited  for  them.  He  recognised  the 
terms  of  intimacy  upon  which  they  were.  He  recognised 
that  between  them  there  was  something  which  had  never 
existed  between  Lois  and  himself,  something  which  made 
their  friendship  a  natural  and  significant  thing.  It  was 
the  freemasonry  of  class  again,  the  magic  ring  against 
which  he  had  torn  his  fingers  in  vain. 

They  saw  him.  The  whole  expression  of  the  girl's  face 
changed.  All  the  animation  seemed  to  leave  her  manner. 
For  a  moment-  she  clung  instinctively  to  her  companion. 
Afterwards  she  looked  at  him  no  more.  She  came  to 
Saton  at  once,  and  held  out  her  hand  without  any  show 
of  reluctance,  yet  wholly  without  spontaneity.  It  was 
as  though  she  was  obeying  orders  from  a  superior. 

**  Only  this  morning,"  he  said,  "  the  Comtesse  was 
speaking  of  you,  Lois.  She  was  so  sorry  that  you  had 
not  been  to  see  her  lately." 

"  I  will  come  this  afternoon,"  Lois  said  quietly. 

Vandermere,  who  had  frowned  heavily  at  the  sound  of 
her  Christian  name  upon  Saton's  lips,  could  scarcely  con- 
ceal his  anger  at  her  promise. 

"  I  have  never  had  the  pleasure,"  he  said,  "  of  meeting 
the  Comtesse.  Perhaps  I  might  be  permitted  to  accom- 
pany Miss  Champneyes  ?  " 


"YOU    DO    NOT   BELIEVE   IN    ME!"     263 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  Saton  answered.  "  I  am  sorry, 
but  the  Comtesse  is  beginning  to  feel  her  age,  and  she 
receives  scarcely  anyone.  I  am  afraid  that  the  days  are 
past  when  she  would  care  to  make  new  acquaintances." 

"  In  any  case,"  Vandermere  said,  turning  to  his  com- 
panion, "  weren't  we  going  to  Hurlingham  this  after- 
noon ?  " 

"  We  were,"  she  said  doubtfully,  "  but  I  think " 

She  looked  towards  Saton.  His  face  was  inexpressive, 
but  she  seemed  to  read  there  something  which  prompted 
her  words. 

"  I  think  that  we  must  put  off  Hurlingham,  if  you 
do  not  mind,"  she  said  to  Vandermere.  "  I  ought  to  go 
and  see  the  Comtesse." 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you,"  Saton  said  slowly.  "  She 
will,  I  am  sure,  be  glad  to  see  you." 

Vandermere  turned  aside  for  a  moment  to  exchange 
greetings  with  some  acquaintances. 

"  Lois,"  Saton  said  in  a  low  tone,  "  you  know  I  have 
told  you  that  I  do  not  like  to  see  you  so  much  with  Cap- 
tain Vandermere." 

"  I  cannot  help  it,"  she  answered.  "  He  is  always  at 
the  house.  He  is  a  great  friend  of  Mr.  Rochester's.  Be- 
sides," she  added,  raising  her  eyes  to  his,  "  I  like  being 
with  him." 

"  You  must  consider  also  my  likes  and  dislikes,"  Saton 
said.  "  Think  how  hard  it  is  for  me  to  see  you  so  very 
little." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  care ! "  Lois  exclaimed  tremulously. 
"  You  know  very  well  that  you  don't  care.  It  is  all  pre- 


264  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

tence,  this.  Why  do  you  do  it?  Why  do  you  make  me  so 
unhappy  ?  " 

"  No,  Lois,"  he  answered,  "  it  is  not  pretence.  I  do 
care  for  you,  and  in  a  very  few  weeks  I  am  coming  to 
fetch  you  away  to  make  you  my  wife.  You  will  be  glad, 
then,"  he  went  on.  "  You  will  be  quite  happy." 

Vandermere  turned  back  towards  them.  He  had  heard 
nothing  of  their  conversation,  but  he  saw  that  Lois  was 
white,  and  he  had  hard  work  to  speak  calmly. 

"  Come,"  he  said  to  Lois,  "  I  think  we  had  better  go 
on.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Saton !  " 

Saton  stood  aside  to  let  them  pass.  He  knew  very  well 
that  Lois  would  have  stayed  with  him,  had  he  bidden  it, 
but  he  made  no  attempt  to  induce  her  to  do  so. 

"  Till  this  afternoon,"  he  said,  taking  off  his  hat  with 
a  little  flourish. 

"  Hang  that  fellow ! "  Vandermere  muttered,  as  he 
looked  at  Lois,  and  saw  the  change  in  her.  "  Why  do 
you  let  him  talk  to  you,  dear?  You  don't  like  him.  I  am 
sure  that  you  do  not.  Why  do  you  allow  him  to  worry 
you?" 

"  I  think,"  Lois  answered,  "  that  I  do  like  him.  Oh, 
I  must  like  him,  Maurice !  " 

"  Yes  ?  "  he  answered. 

"  Don't  let  us  talk  about  him.  He  has  gone  away  now. 
Come  with  me  to  the  other  end  of  the  Park.  Let  us 
hurry.  .  .  ." 

Saton  walked  on  until  he  saw  a  certain  mauve  parasol 
raised  a  little  over  one  of  the  seats.  A  moment  after- 
wards, hat  in  hand,  he  was  standing  before  Pauline. 


'YOU    DO    NOT   BELIEVE    IN    ME!"     265 

"  Has  he  come? "  she  asked,  as  he  bent  over  her 
fingers. 

Saton's  face  clouded. 

"  Yes ! "  he  answered.  "  He  came  last  night.  To  tell 
you  the  truth,  he  has  just  gone  away  in  a  temper.  I  do 
not  know  whether  he  will  return  to  the  house  or  not." 

"  Why?  "  she  asked  quickly. 

Saton  laughed  to  cover  his  annoyance. 

"  He  does  not  approve  of  the  luxury  of  my  surround- 
ings," he  answered.  "  He  declined  to  write  at  my  desk, 
or  to  sit  in  my  room." 

"  I  don't  wonder  at  it,"  she  answered.  "  You  know 
how  he  worships  simplicity." 

"  Simplicity !  "  Saton  exclaimed.  "  You  should  see  the 
place  where  he  writes  himself.  There  is  no  carpet  upon 
the  floor,  a  block  of  wood  for  a  writing-table,  a  penny 
bottle  of  ink,  and  a  gnawed  and  bitten  penholder  only  an 
inch  or  two  long." 

Pauline  nodded. 

"  I  can  understand  it,"  she  said.  "  I  can  understand, 
too,  how  your  rooms  would  affect  him.  You  should  have 
thought  of  that.  If  he  has  gone  away  altogether,  how 
will  you  be  able  to  finish  your  work  ?  " 

"  I  must  do  without  him,"  Saton  answered. 

Pauline  looked  at  him  critically,  dispassionately. 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  you  can  do  without  him,"  she 
said.  "  You  are  losing  your  hold  upon  your  work.  I 
have  noticed  it  for  weeks.  Don't  you  think  that  you  are 
frittering  away  a  great  deal  of  your  time  and  thoughts  ? 
Don't  you  think  that  the  very  small  things  of  life,  things 


266  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

that  are  not  worth  counting,  have  absorbed  a  good  deal 
of  your  attention  lately  ?  " 

He  was  annoyed,  and  yet  flattered  that  she  should 
speak  to  him  so  intimately. 

"  It  may  be  so,"  he  admitted.  "  And  yet,  do  you 
know  why  I  have  chosen  to  mix  a  little  more  with  my 
fellows?" 

"  No  ! "  she  answered.  "  I  do  not  know  why." 

"  It  is  because  I  must,"  he  said,  lowering  his  tone. 
"  It  is  because  I  must  see  something  of  you." 

The  lace  of  her  parasol  drooped  a  little.  Her  face  was 
hidden  now,  and  her  voice  seemed  to  come  from  a  long 
way  off. 

"  That  is  very  foolish,"  she  said.  "  In  the  first  place, 
if  my  opinion  of  you  is  worth  anything,  I  tell  you 
frankly  that  I  would  rather  see  you  with  ink-stained  fin- 
gers and  worn  clothes,  climbing  your  way  up  toward  the 
truth,  working  and  thinking  in  an  atmosphere  which  was 
not  befouled  with  all  the  small  and  petty  things  of  life. 
It  seems  to  me  that  since  it  amused  you  to  play  the  young 
man  of  fashion,  you  have  lost  your  touch  —  some  por- 
tion of  it,  at  any  rate  —  upon  the  greater  things." 

Saton  was  very  angry  now.  He  was  only  indifferently 
successful  in  his  attempt  to  conceal  the  fact. 

"  You,  too,"  he  muttered.  "  Well,  we  shall  see.  Naud- 
heim  has  brains,  and  he  has  worked  for  many  years.  He 
had  worked,  indeed,  for  many  years  when  the  glimmer- 
ings of  this  thing  first  came  to  me.  He  could  help  me  if 
he  would,  but  if  he  will  not,  I  can  do  it  alone." 

"  I  wonder." 


"YOU    DO    NOT   BELIEVE   IN    ME!"      267 

"  You  do  not  believe  in  me,"  he  declared. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  "  I  do  not  believe  in  you  —  not 
altogether ! " 

Rochester  and  his  wife  drove  down  the  Park.  Saton 
followed  her  eyes,  noticing  her  slight  start,  and  gazed 
after  them  with  brooding  face. 

"  Rochester  is  becoming  quite  a  devoted  husband," 
he  remarked,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Quite,"  she  answered.  "  They  spend  most  of  their 
time  together  now." 

"  And  Lady  Mary,  I  understand,"  he  went  on,  "  has 
reformed.  Yesterday  she  was  opening  the  new  wing  of 
a  hospital,  and  the  day  before  she  was  speaking  at  a 
Girls'  Friendly  Society  meeting.  It's  an  odd  little  place, 
the  world,  or  rather  this  one  particular  corner  of  it." 

She  rose,  with  a  little  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  and  held 
out  her  hand. 

"  I  must  go,"  she  said.  "  I  am  lunching  early." 

"  May  I  walk  a  little  way  with  you  ?  "  he  begged. 

She  hesitated.  After  all,  perhaps,  it  was  a  phase  of 
snobbery  to  dislike  being  seen  with  him  —  something  of 
that  same  feeling  which  she  had  never  failed  to  remark 
in  him. 

"  If  you  please,"  she  answered.  "  I  am.  going  to  take 
a  taximeter  at  the  Park  gates." 

"  I  will  walk  with  you  as  far  as  there,"  he  said. 

He  tried  to  talk  to  her  on  ordinary  topics,  but  he 
felt  at  once  a  disadvantage.  He  knew  so  little  of  the  peo- 
ple, the  little  round  of  life  in  which  she  lived.  Before 
they  reached  the  gates  they  had  relapsed  into  silence. 


268  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

"  It  is  foolish  of  me,"  he  said,  as  he  called  a  taximeter, 
"  to  come  here  simply  in  the  hope  of  seeing  you,  to  beg 
for  a  few  words,  and  to  go  away  more  miserable  than 
ever." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  It  is  certainly  very  foolish,"  she  admitted. 

"  I  don't  see  why,"  he  protested,  "  you  should  disap- 
prove of  me  so  utterly." 

"  I  do  not  disapprove,"  she  told  him.  "  I  have  not  the 
right.  I  have  not  the  desire  to  have  the  right.  Only, 
since  you  will  have  me  tell  you,  I  am  interested  in  your 
work.  I  like  to  talk  about  it,  to  hear  you  talk  when  you 
are  enthusiastic.  It  does  not  amuse  me  to  see  you  come 
down  to  the  level  of  these  others,  who  while  their  morn- 
ing away  doing  nothing.  You  are  not  at  home  amongst 
them.  You  have  no  place  there.  When  you  come  to  me 
as  a  young  man  in  Society,  you  bore  me." 

She  stepped  into  the  taximeter  and  drove  away,  with 
a  farewell  nod,  abrupt  although  not  altogether  unkindly. 
Yet  as  she  looked  behind,  a  few  seconds  later,  her  face 
was  very  much  softer  —  her  eyes  were  almost  regretful. 

"  It  may  hurt  him,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  but  it  is  very 
good  that  he  should  hear  the  truth." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 
A  WOMAN'S  TONGUE 

THE  man  was  harmless  enough,  to  all  appear- 
ance —  something  less  than  middle-aged,  pale, 
and  with  stubbly  brown  moustache.  He  was 
dressed  in  blue  serge  clothes,  and  a  bowler  hat  a  little 
ancient  at  the  brim.  Neither  his  appearance  nor  his  man- 
ner was  remarkable  for  any  particular  intelligence.  Yet 
the  girl  who  looked  him  over  was  at  once  suspicious. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  she  asked  a  little  curtly. 

He  pointed  to  the  crystal  upon  the  table,  and  held  out 
his  hand. 

"  I  want  my  fortune  told,"  he  said. 

Violet  shook  her  head. 

"  I  do  not  attempt  to  read  fortunes,"  she  said,  "  and 
I  do  not,  in  any  case,  see  gentlemen  here  at  all.  I  do  not 
understand  how  the  boy  could  have  shown  you  up." 

"  It  wasn't  the  boy's  fault,"  the  visitor  answered.  "  I 
was  very  keen  on  coming,  and  I  gave  him  the  slip.  Do 
make  an  exception  for  once,  won't  you?"  he  went  on. 
"  I  know  my  hand  is  very  easy  to  read.  I  had  it  read 
once,  and  nearly  everything  came  true." 

Again  she  shook  her  head. 

"  I  cannot  do  anything  for  you,  sir,"  she  said. 

The  man  protested. 


270  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

"  But  you  call  yourself  a  professional  palmist,"  he 
said,  "  and  you  add  crystal  gazing  to  your  announce- 
ment. I  have  seen  it  being  carried  along  on  Regent 
Street." 

"  It  is  quite  true,"  Violet  said,  "  that  I  sometimes  try 
to  amuse  ladies,  but  I  make  no  serious  attempt  to  tell 
fortunes.  And  as  I  said  before,  I  do  not  even  receive 
gentlemen  here  at  all.  I  am  sorry  that  you  have  had 
your  visit  for  nothing." 

He  rose  to  his  feet  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 
There  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  accept  defeat.  And 
then,  at  the  moment  of  defeat,  something  happened 
which  more  than  reconciled  him  to  his  wasted  visit.  The 
door  was  opened  abruptly,  and  Saton  entered. 

He  realized  the  situation,  or  its  possibilities,  in  an  in- 
stant. His  bow  to  Violet  was  the  bow  of  a  stranger. 

"  You  are  engaged,"  he  said.  "  I  will  come  again.  I 
am  sorry  that  your  boy  did  not  tell  me." 

"  This  gentleman  came  under  a  misapprehension," 
Violet  answered.  "  I  am  sorry,  but  the  same  thing  ap- 
plies to  you.  I  do  not  receive  gentlemen  here." 

Saton  bowed, 

""I  am  sorry,"  he  said. 

The  page-boy  for  whom  Violet  had  rung,  opened  the 
door.  The  first  comer  passed  out,  with  obvious  reluctance. 
The  moment  that  the  door  was  closed,  Violet  turned  to- 
wards Saton  with  a  little  exclamation. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  of  all  the  idiots  I  ever  knew. 
Haven't  I  told  you  time  after  time  that  this  place  is  in- 
fested with  detectives?  We  get  them  here  every  day  or 


A   WOMAN'S   TONGUE  271 

so,  trying  to  trap  us,  women  as  well  as  men.  And  yet 
you  walk  in  as  though  the  place  belonged  to  you.  The 
one  thing  they  are  so  anxious  to  find  out  is  who  is  run- 
ning this  show." 

"  I  was  a  fool  to  come,  Violet,"  Saton  admitted,  "  and 
I  am  going  at  once.  You  think,  then,  that  he  was  a  de- 
tective? " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,"  she  answered.  "  I  was  sure  of  it, 
from  the  moment  he  came  in." 

"  I  will  go,"  Saton  said. 

"  Did  you  come  to  see  me  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  mo- 
mentary softening  in  her  tone. 

Saton  nodded. 

"  It  must  be  another  time,"  he  said.  "  I  will  not  stop 
now,  or  that  man  below  will  suspect." 

"When  will  our  next  evening  be,  Bertrand?  "  she 
begged,  following  him  to  the  door. 

"  I'll  send  you  a  telegram,"  he  answered  — "  perhaps, 
to-morrow." 

Saton  descended  the  stairs  quickly.  On  the  threshold 
of  the  door  he  paused,  with  the  apparent  object  of  light- 
ing a  cigarette.  His  eyes  travelled  up  and  down  the 
street.  Looking  into  a  shop-window  a  few  yards  away, 
was  the  man  whom  he  had  found  with  Violet. 

He  strolled  slowly  along  the  pavement  and  accosted 
him. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  Please  don't  think 
me  impertinent,  but  I  am  really  curious  to  know  whether 
that  young  woman  was  honest  or  not.  She  refused  to 
read  my  hand  or  look  into  the  crystal  for  me,  simply  be- 


- 


272  fTHE   MOVING   FINGER 

cause  I  was  a  man.  Did  she  treat  you  in  just  the  same 
way  ?  " 

The  detective  smiled. 

"  Yes !  "  he  said.  "  She  was  very  much  on  her  guard 
indeed.  Declined  to  have  anything  to  do  with  me." 

"  Well,"  said  Saton,  "  I  only  went  in  for  a  joke.  I'll 
try  one  of  the  others.  There's  a  wonderful  lady  in  Ox- 
ford Street  somewhere,  they  tell  me,  with  the  biggest 
black  eyes  in  London.  Good  day,  sir !  " 

Saton  walked  off,  and  entered  a  neighboring  tea- 
shop.  From  there  he  telephoned  to  Violet,  who  a  few 
minutes  later  appeared. 

"  Sit  down  and  have  some  tea,"  he  said.  "  I  want  to 
talk  to  you." 

"  It's  almost  time,  isn't  it?  "  she  asked,  reproachfully. 

"  Never  mind  about  that  just  now,"  he  said.  "  You 
can  guess  a  little  how  things  are.  Those  questions  in  the 
House  upset  the  Home  Secretary,  and  I  am  quite  con- 
vinced that  they  have  made  up  their  minds  at  Scotland 
Yard  to  go  for  us.  You  are  sure  that  you  have  been 
careful?  " 

"  Absolutely,"  she  answered.  "  I  have  not  once,  to 
man  or  woman,  pretended  to  tell  their  fortune.  I  tell 
them  that  the  whole  thing  is  a  j  oke ;  that  I  will  look  into 
the  crystal  for  them  if  they  wish  it,  or  read  their  hands, 
but  I  do  not  profess  to  tell  their  fortunes.  What  I  see  I 
will  tell  them.  It  may  interest  them  or  it  may  not.  If  it 
does,  I  ask  them  to  give  me  something  as  a  present.  Of 
course,  I  see  that  they  always  do  that.  But  you  are  quite 
right,  Bertrand.  Every  one  of  our  shows  is  being 


A    WOMAN'S    TONGUE  273 

watched.  Besides  that  fellow  this  afternoon  I  had  two 
detectives  yesterday,  and  a  woman  whom  I  am  doubtful 
about,  who  keeps  on  coming." 

"  Three  weeks  longer,"  Saton  remarked,  half  to  him- 
self. "  Perhaps  it  isn't  worth  while.  Perhaps  it  would 
be  better  to  close  up  now." 

"  Only  three  weeks  ?  "  Violet  asked  eagerly.  "  Ber- 
trand,  what  are  you  going  to  do  then  ?  What  is  going  to 
become  of  me?  " 

Saton  patted  her  on  the  hand. 

"  I  will  tell  you  a  little  later  on,"  he  said.  "  Every- 
thing will  be  arranged  all  right.  The  only  thing  I  am 
wondering  about  is  whether  it  wouldn't  be  better  to  close 
up  at  once." 

"  They've  got  a  big  piece  of  business  on  at  the  office," 
she  remarked. 

Saton  frowned. 

"  I  know  it,"  he  answered.  "  It's  a  dangerous  piece  of 
business,  too.  It's  blackmail,  pure  and  simple.  I  wonder 
Huntley  dare  tackle  it.  It  might  mean  five  years'  penal 
servitude  for  him." 

"  He'd  give  you  away  before  he  went  to  penal  servi- 
tude," Violet  remarked.  "  You  may  make  yourself  jolly 
sure  of  that." 

Saton  passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead. 

"  Phew !  "  he  said.  "  How  stuffy  this  place  is  !  Violet, 
I  wish  you'd  go  round  to  Huntley,  and  talk  to  him.  Of 
course,  he  gets  a  big  percentage  on  the  returns,  and  that 
makes  him  anxious  to  squeeze  everyone.  But  I  don't  want 
any  risks.  We're  nearly  out  of  the  wood.  I  don't  want  to 


274  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

be  trapped  now.  And  I've  an  enemy,  Violet  —  a  pretty 
dangerous  enemy,  too.  I  fancy  that  most  of  this  activity 
at  Scotland  Yard  and  thereabouts  lately,  is  due  to  him." 

"  I'll  go,"  she  said,  drawing  on  her  gloves.  "  Shall  I 
telephone  to  you?  " 

He  nodded. 

"  Telephone  me  at  home,"  he  said.  "  Tell  Dorrington, 
or  Huntley  —  whichever  you  see  —  that  the  affair  must 
be  closed  up  —  either  dropped  or  settled.  The  risk  is  too 
great.  My  other  work  is  becoming  more  and  more  im- 
portant every  day.  I  ought  not  to  be  mixed  up  with  this 
sort  of  thing  at  all,  Violet." 

"  Why  are  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Money,"  he  answered.  "  One  must  have  money.  One 
can  do  nothing  without  money.  It  isn't  that  you  or  any 
of  the  other  places  make  such  an  amazing  lot.  It's  from 
Dorrington,  of  course,  that  the  biggest  draws  come. 
Still,  on  the  whole  it's  a  good  income." 

"  And  you're  going  to  give  it  all  up  ?  "  she  remarked. 

He  nodded. 

"  I  daren't  go  on,"  he  said.  "  We've  reached  about 
the  limit." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  live,  then  ?  "  she  asked  curi- 
ously. "  You're  not  the  sort  of  man  to  go  back  to 
poverty." 

Saton  considered  for  a  moment.  After  all,  perhaps  it 
would  pay  him  best  to  be  straightforward  with  this  girl. 
He  would  tell  her  the  truth.  If  she  were  disagreeable 
about  it,  he  could  always  swear  that  he  had  been  joking. 

"  Violet,"  he  said,  "  I  will  tell  you  what  I  am  going  to 


A   WOMAN'S    TONGUE  275 

do.  It  does  not  sound  very  praiseworthy,  but  you  must 
remember  that  my  work,  my  real  hard  work,  means  a 
great  deal  to  me,  and  for  its  sake  I  am  willing  to  put  up 
with  a  good  deal  of  misunderstanding.  I  am  going  to 
ask  you  to  break  off  our  engagement.  I  am  going  to 
marry  a  young  lady  who  has  a  great  deal  of  money." 

Violet  sat  perfectly  still  in  her  chair.  For  several 
seconds  she  did  not  utter  a  syllable.  Her  lips  were  a  little 
parted.  The  color  seemed  suddenly  drawn  from  her 
face,  and  her  eyes  narrowed.  One  realized  then  the  per- 
nicious effect  of  cosmetics.  Her  blackened  eyebrows  were 
painfully  apparent.  The  little  patch  of  rouge  was  easily 
discernible  against  the  pallor  of  her  powdered  skin.  She 
was  suddenly  ugly.  Saton,  looking  at  her,  was  amazed 
that  he  could  ever  have  brought  himself  to  touch  her 
lips. 

"Ah!"  she  remarked.  "I  hadn't  thought  of  that. 
You  want  to  marry  some  one  else,  eh?  " 

Saton  nodded. 

"  It  isn't  that  I  want  to,"  he  declared,  "  only,  as  you 
know,  I  must  have  money.  I  can't  marry  you  without  it, 
can  I,  Violet?  We  should  only  be  miserable.  You  under- 
stand that?  " 

"  Yes,  I  understand !  "  she  answered. 

She  was  turning  one  of  her  rings  round,  looking  down 
at  her  hands  with  downcast  head. 

"  You're  upset,  Violet,"  he  said,  soothingly.  "  I'm 
sorry.  You  see  I  can't  help  myself,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  so ! "  she  answered.  "  Who  is  the 
young  lady  ?  " 


276  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

"  A  Miss  Lois  Champneyes,"  Saton  said.  "  She  is  a 
ward  of  a  Mr.  Henry  Rochester,  who  has  been  my  enemy 
all  along.  It  is  he,  I  believe,  who  has  stirred  up  these 
detectives  to  keep  watching  us." 

"  Henry  Rochester,"  she  repeated.  "  Yes,  I  remember 
the  name!  He  lives  at  the  great  house  near  Blackbird's 
Nest," 

Saton  nodded. 

"  He  showed  you  the  way  to  my  cottage  once  there," 
he  reminded  her.  "  Well,  I'm  glad  I've  told  you,  Violet. 
I  hope  you  understand  exactly  how  much  it  means.  It's 
Rachael's  doings,  of  course,  and  I  daren't  go  against 
her." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not ! "  she  answered. 

They  parted  in  the  street.  Saton  called  a  taximeter 
and  drove  off.  Violet  walked  slowly  down  Bond  Street. 
As  she  passed  the  corner  of  Piccadilly,  she  was  suddenly 
aware  that  the  man  who  had  visited  her  that  afternoon 
was  watching  her  from  the  other  side  of  the  street.  She 
hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then,  standing  still,  de- 
liberately beckoned  him  over. 

"  You  are  a  detective,  ar.e  you  not  ?  "  she  asked,  as  he 
approached,  hat  in  hand. 

He  smiled. 

"  You  are  a  very  clever  young  lady,"  he  remarked. 

"  I  don't  want  any  compliments,"  she  answered.  "  Did 
you  come  to  my  show  this  afternoon  hoping  just  to 
catch  me  tripping,  or  are  you  engaged  in  a  larger  quest 
altogether?  " 

"  In  a  larger  quest,"  he  answered.  "  I  want  some  in- 


A   WOMAN'S    TONGUE  277 

formation,  and  if  you  can  give  it  me,  I  can  promise  that 
you  will  be  remarkably  well  paid." 

"  And  the  information?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  want,"  he  said  slowly,  "  to  be  able  to  connect  the 
young  man  who  came  in  and  pretended  to  be  a  stranger, 
and  who  has  just  been  having  tea  with  you  —  I  mean 
Mr.  Bertrand  Saton  —  I  want  to  connect  him  with  your 
establishment,  and  also  with  a  little  office  where  some 
very  strange  business  has  been  transacted  during  the  last 
few  months.  You  know  where  I  mean.  What  do  you  say  ? 
Shall  we  have  a  talk  ?  " 

She  walked  by  his  side  along  Piccadilly. 

"  We  may  as  well,"  she  said.  "  We'll  go  into  the  Cafe 
Royal  and  sit  down." 


L 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

ON,  LOIS'  BIRTHDAY 

4  £  f        OIS  is  late  this  morning,"  Vandennere  re- 
marked, looking  up  at  the  clock. 

"  And  on  her  birthday,  too !  "  Lady  Mary 
declared.  "  Young  people,  nowadays,  are  so  blase. 
Look  at  all  those  presents  on  the  table  for  her,  and  here 
the  breakfast  gong  has  rung  twice,  and  there  is  no  sign 
of  her." 

Vandermere  turned  to  his  host. 

"  You  haven't  heard  anything  about  that  fellow 
Saton  ?  "  he  asked.  "  You  don't  know  whether  he  is  in 
the  neighborhood  or  not?  " 

*'  I  have  not  heard,"  Rochester  answered.  "  To  tell 
you  the  truth,  if  he  has  as  much  sense  ias  I  believe  he 
has,  he  is  probably  on  his  way  to  the  Continent  by  now." 

"  I  have  an  idea,  somehow,"  Vandermere  continued, 
"  that  Lois  is  afraid  he'll  turn  up  to-day." 

"  If  Lois  is  afraid,"  Rochester  remarked,  "  let  me  tell 
you  in  confidence,  Vandermere,  that  I  don't  think  you 
need  be." 

"  My  dear  girl ! "  Lady  Mary  exclaimed,  looking  to- 
ward the  staircase.  "  We  were  just  going  in  to  break- 
fast without  you,  and  on  your  birthday,  too  !  " 

Lois  came  slowly  down  the  broad  stairs  into  the  hall. 


ON    LOIS'   BIRTHDAY  279 

It  was  impossible  to  ignore  the  fact  that  she  was  pale, 
and  that  she  walked  as  one  in  fear.  Her  eyes  were  sunken, 
and  spoke  of  a  sleepless  night.  Her  manner  was  almost 
furtive.  She  scarcely  glanced,  even,  at  the  little  pile  of 
packages  which  stood  upon  the  table. 

"  How  nice  of  you  all  to  wait ! "  she  said.  "  Good 
morning,  everybody !  " 

"  Good  morning,  and  many  happy  returns  to  you ! " 
Lady  Mary  called  out.  "  Will  you  look  at  your  pres- 
ents now  or  after  breakfast?  " 

"  I  think  after  breakfast,"  she  said.  "  Are  there  any 
letters?  " 

"  They  are  on  the  table,"  Rochester  said. 

She  glanced  them  through  eagerly.  When  she  had 
come  to  the  last  one,  she  drew  a  little  breath  of  relief. 
A  tinge  of  color  came  into  her  cheeks. 

"  You  dear  people !  "  she  exclaimed,  impulsively.  "  I 
know  I  am  going  to  have  ever  such  nice  things  to  thank 
you  for.  May  I  be  a  child,  and  put  off  looking  at  them 
until  after  breakfast?  Do  you  mind,  all  of  you?" 

"  Of  course  not,"  Vandermere  answered.  "  We  want 
you  to  tell  us  how  you  would  like  to  spend  the  day." 

"  I  would  like  to  ride  —  a  long  way  away,"  she  de- 
clared, breathlessly.  "  Or  the  motor-car  —  I  shouldn't 
mind  that.  I  should  like  to  go  as  far  away  as  ever  we 
can,  and  stay  away  until  it  is  dark.  Could  we  start  di- 
rectly after  breakfast?  " 

Rochester  smiled. 

"  You  can  have  the  car  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  he 
said.  "  I  have  to  go  over  to  Melton  to  sit  on  the  Bench, 


280  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

and  your  aunt  and  I  are  lunching  with  the  Delameres 
afterwards.  But  if  you  can  put  up  with  Vandermere  as 
an  escort ! " 

"  I'll  try,"  she  answered.  "  Dear  Maurice,  do  order 
the  car  for  half-an-hour's  time,  will  you?  " 

He  laughed. 

"  Why  this  wild  rush?  "  he  inquired. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered.  "  It  is  just  a  feeling, 
perhaps.  I  want  to  get  away,  a  long  way  off,  very 
soon.  I  can't  explain.  Don't  ask  me  to  explain,  any  of 
you.  You  are  sure  those  are  all  the  letters  ?  " 

"  Certain,"  Rochester  answered.  "  And,  Lois,"  he 
added,  looking  up,  "  remember  this.  You  speak  and  look 
this  morning  like  one  who  has  fears.  I  repeat  it,  you 
have  absolutely  nothing  to  fear.  I  am  your  guardian 
still,  although  you  are  of  age,  and  I  promise  you  that 
nothing  harmful,  nothing  threatening,  shall  come  near 
you." 

She  drew  a  little  sigh.  She  did  not  make  him  any  an- 
swer at  all,  and  yet  in  a  sense  it  was  clear  that  his  words 
had  brought  her  some  comfort. 

"  Don't  expect  us  back  till  dinner-time,"  she  declared. 
"  I  am  going  to  sit  behind  with  Maurice  and  be  bored 
to  death,  but  I  am  going  to  be  out  of  doors  till  it  is 
dark.  I  wish  you  did  not  bore  me  so,  Maurice,"  she 
added,  smiling  up  at  him. 

"  I  won't  to-day,  anyhow,"  he  answered,  "  because  if 
I  talk  at  all  I  am  going  to  talk  about  yourself." 

As  the  day  wore  on,  Lois  seemed  to  lose  the  depression 
which  had  come  over  her  during  the  early  morning.  By 


ON    LOIS'   BIRTHDAY  281 

luncheon  she  was  laughing  and  chattering,  talking  over 
her  presents.  Soon,  when  they  were  speeding  on  the  road 
again,  she  felt  her  hand  suddenly  held. 

"  Lois,"  her  companion  said,  "  this  is  your  birthday, 
and  you  are  a  free  woman,  free  to  give  yourself  to  whom 
you  will.  It  should  be  the  happiest  day  of  your  life. 
Won't  you  make  it  the  happiest  day  of  mine  ?  " 

"  Oh,  if  only  I  could ! "  she  answered,  with  a  sudden 
return  of  her  old  nervousness.  "  Maurice,  if  only  I 
dared!" 

He  laughed  scornfully. 

"  Dear  Lois,"  he  said,  "  you  are  impressionable,  and 
you  have  let  yourself  become  the  victim  of  some  very 
foolish  fancies.  You  are  a  free  agent.  I  tell  you  this 
now,  and  I  tell  you  the  truth.  You  are  a  free  agent,  free 
to  give  your  love  where  you  will,  free  to  give  yourself 
to  whom  you  choose.  And  I  come  to  you  first  on  your 
birthday,  Lois.  You  know  that  I  love  you.  Give  yourself 
to  me,  little  girl,  and  never  anything  harmful  shall  come 
near  you.  I  swear  it,  on  my  honor,  Lois." 

She  drew  a  little  sigh  of  content,  and  her  arm  stole 
shyly  up  to  his  shoulder.  In  a  moment  she  was  in  his 
arms. 

"  Don't  be  angry  with  me,  Maurice,"  she  sobbed,  "  if 
I  am  a  little  strange  j  ust  at  first.  I  am  afraid  —  I  can't 
tell  you  what  of  —  but  I  am  afraid." 

He  talked  to  her  reassuringly,  holding  her  hands  — 
most  of  the  time,  in  fact,  for  the  country  was  a  sparsely 
populated  one,  with  his  arm  around  her  waist.  And 
then  suddenly  she  seemed  to  lose  her  new-found  content, 


282  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

Her  cheeks  were  suddenly  white.  She  looked  everywhere 
restlessly  about. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  dear?  "  he  asked  anxiously. 

"  I  thought  that  I  heard  something ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"What  is  the  time?" 

"  Four  o'clock,"  he  answered,  looking  at  his  watch. 

"  Please  tell  the  man  to  go  back,  straight  back  home," 
she  said.  "  I  am  tired.  I  must  get  back.  Please,  Maurice !  " 

He  gave  the  chauffeur  instructions  through  the  speak- 
ing-tube. The  car  swung  round,  and  they  sped  on  their 
way  through  the  quiet  lanes. 

"  Dear  Lois,"  he  said,  "  something  has  come  over  you. 
Your  hands  are  cold,  and  you  have  drawn  yourself  away. 
Now  please  be  honest  and  tell  me  all  about  it.  If  you 
have  fears,  all  I  can  say  is  that  you  may  dismiss  them. 
You  are  safe  now  that  you  have  given  yourself  to 
me,  as  safe  as  anyone  in  the  world  could  be." 

"  Oh !  If  I  could  believe  it ! "  she  whispered,  but  she 
did  not  turn  her  head.  Her  eyes  sought  his  no  longer. 
They  were  fixed  steadfastly  on  the  road  in  front. 

"  You  must  believe  it,"  he  declared,  laughing.  "  I  can 
assure  you  that  I  am  strong  enough  to  hold  you,  now 
that  I  have  the  right.  If  any  troubles  or  worries  come, 
they  are  mine  to  deal  with !  See,  we  will  not  mince  words. 
If  that  little  reptile  dares  to  crawl  near  you,  I'll  set  my 
foot  upon  his  neck.  By  God,  I  will !  " 

She  took  no  notice  of  his  speech,  except  to  slowly 
shake  her  head.  It  seemed  as  though  she  had  not  heard 
him.  By-and-by  he  left  off  talking.  There  was  nothing 
he  could  say  to  bring  back  the  color  to  her 


ON    LOIS'   BIRTHDAY  283 

cheeks,  or  the  light  to  her  eyes,  or  the  confidence  to  her 
tone.  Something  had  happened  —  he  could  not  tell  what 
—  but  for  the  moment  she  was  gone  from  him.  The  little 
hands  which  his  still  clasped  were  as  cold  as  ice.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  they  were  unwilling  prisoners.  Once, 
when  he  would  have  passed  his  arm  around  her  waist, 
she  even  shuddered  and  drew  away. 

The  car  rushed  on  ita  way,  turned  into  the  great 
avenue,  and  drew  up  in  front  of  Beauleys.  Lois  stepped 
out  quickly,  and  went  on  ahead.  In  the  hall  several  peo- 
ple were  standing,  and  amongst  them  Bertrand  Saton ! 

Vandermere's  face  was  dark  as  a  thundercloud  when 
his  eyes  fell  upon  the  young  man  —  carefully,  almost 
foppishly  dressed,  standing  upon  the  hearthrug  in  front 
of  the  open  fire.  Rochester  was  there  with  Pauline,  and 
Lady  Mary  was  seated  behind  the  tea-tray.  There  was 
a  little  chorus  as  the  two  entered.  Lois  went  straight  to 
Saton,  who  held  out  his  hands. 

"  Dear  Lois,"  he  said  softly,  "  I  could  not  keep  away 
to-day.  I  have  been  waiting  for  you,  waiting  for  nearly 
an  hour." 

"  I  know,"  she  answered.  "  I  came  as  soon  as  I  knew." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THE    CHARLATAN    UNMASKED 

THERE  seemed  for  the  next  few  minutes  to  be  a 
somewhat  singular  abstention  from  any  desire 
to  interfere  with  the  two  people  who  stood  in 
the  centre  of  the  little  group,  hand-in-hand.  Saton,  after 
his  first  speech,  and  after  Lois  had  given  him  her  hands, 
had  turned  a  little  defiantly  toward  Rochester,  who  re- 
mained, however,  unmoved,  his  elbow  resting  upon  the 
broad  mantelpiece,  his  face  almost  expressionless.  Van- 
dermere,  too,  stood  on  one  side  and  held  his  peace,  though 
the  effort  with  which  he  did  so  was  a  visible  one.  Lady 
Mary  looked  anxiously  towards  them.  Pauline  had 
shrunk  back,  as  though  something  in  the  situation  ter- 
rified her. 

Even  Saton  himself  felt  that  it  was  the  silence  before 
the  storm.  The  courage  which  he  had  summoned  up  to 
meet  a  storm  of  disapproval,  began  to  ebb  slowly  away 
in  the  face  of  this  unnatural  silence.  It  was  clear  that 
the  onus  of  further  speech  was  to  rest  with  him. 

Still  retaining  Lois'  hand,  he  turned  toward  Rochester. 

"  You  have  forbidden  me  to  enter  your  house,  or  to 
hold  any  communication  with  your  ward  until  she  was  of 
age,  Mr.  Rochester,"  he  said.  "  One  of  your  conditions 
I  have  obeyed.  With  regard  to  the  other,  I  have  done  as 


THE  CHARLATAN  UNMASKED  285 

I  thought  fit.  However,  to-day  she  is  her  own  mistress. 
She  has  consented  to  be  my  wife.  I  do  not  need  to  ask 
for  your  consent  or  approval.  If  you  are  not  willing 
that  she  should  be  married  from  your  roof,  I  can  take 
her  at  once  to  the  Comtesse,  who  is  prepared  to  receive 
her." 

"  A  very  pleasant  little  arrangement,"  Rochester  said, 
speaking  for  the  first  time.  "  I  am  afraid,  however,  that 
you  will  have  to  alter  your  plans." 

"  I  do  not  admit  your  right  to  interfere  in  them," 
Saton  answered.  "  If  you  continue  your  opposition  to 
my  marriage  with  your  ward,  I  shall  take  her  away  with 
me  this  afternoon." 

Rochester  shook  his  head. 

"  I  think  not,"  he  answered. 

"  Then  we  shall  see,"  Saton  declared.  "  Lois,  come 
with  me.  It  does  not  matter  about  your  hat.  Your  things 
can  be  sent  on  afterwards.  Come !  " 

She  would  have  followed  him  towards  the  door,  but 
Rochester,  leaning  over,  touched  the  bell,  and  almost  at 
once  two  men  stepped  into  the  hall.  One,  Saton  remem- 
bered in  an  instant.  It  was  the  man  whom  he  had  found 
with  Violet  —  the  man  who  was  there  to  have  his  for- 
tune told.  The  other  was  a  stranger,  but  there  was  some- 
thing in  his  demeanor,  in  the  very  cut  of  his  clothes, 
which  seemed  to  denote  his  profession. 

Saton  was  suddenly  pale.  He  realized  in  a  moment 
that  it  was  not  intended  that  he  should  leave  the  room. 
He  looked  toward  Rochester  as  though  for  an  explana- 
tion. 


286  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

"  My  young  friend,"  Rochester  said,  "  when  you  leave 
this  place,  you  will  leave  it,  unless  I  change  my  mind,  in 
the  company  of  those  friends  of  mine  whom  you  see 
there.  I  don't  want  to  terrify  you  unnecessarily.  These 
gentlemen  are  detectives,  but  they  are  in  my  employ. 
They  have  nothing  to  do  with  Scotland  Yard.  I  can 
assure  you,  however,  that  there  need  not  be  ten  minutes' 
delay  in  the  issuing  of  a  warrant  for  your  arrest." 

"  My  arrest  ?  "  Saton  gasped.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Rochester  sighed. 

"  Ah ! "  he  said.  "  Why  should  you  force  me  for  ex- 
planations? Ask  yourself.  Once  before  you  have  stood 
in  the  dock,  on  the  charge  of  being  connected  with  cer- 
tain enterprises  designed  to  wheedle  their  pocket-money 
from  over-credulous  ladies.  You  got  off  by  a  fluke,  but 
you  did  not  learn  your  lesson.  This  time,  getting  off  will 
not  be  quite  so  easy,  for  you  seem  to  have  added  to 
your  former  profession  one  which  an  English  jury  sel- 
dom lets  pass  unpunished.  I  am  in  a  position  to  prove, 
Bertrand  Saton,  that  the  offices  in  Charing  Cross  Road, 
conducted  under  the  name  of  Jacobson  &  Company,  and 
which  are  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  headquarters 
of  an  iniquitous  blackmailing  system,  are  inspired  and 
conducted  by  you,  and  that  the  profits  are  the  means  by 
which  you  live.  A  more  despicable  profession  the  world 
has  never  known.  There  are  a  sheaf  of  cases  against 
you.  I  will  remind  you  of  one.  My  wife  —  Lady  Mary 
here  —  left  a  private  letter  in  the  rooms  of  a  Madame 
Helga.  The  letter  was  passed  on  at  once  to  the  black- 
mailing branch  of  your  extremely  interesting  business, 


THE  CHARLATAN  UNMASKED  287 

and  the  sum  of,  I  think,  five  hundred  pounds,  was  paid 
for  its  recovery.  You  yourself  were  personally  respon- 
sible for  this  little  arrangement.  And  there  are  many 
others.  If  all  the  poor  women  whom  you  have  robbed," 
Rochester  continued,  "  had  had  the  common  sense  of  my 
wife,  and  brought  the  matter  to  their  husbands,  you 
would  probably  have  been  a  guest  of  His  Majesty  some 
time  ago." 

Such  fear  as  had  at  first  drawn  the  color  from 
Saton's  cheeks,  and  filled  his  eyes  with  terror,  passed 
quickly  away.  He  stood  upright,  his  head  thrown  back, 
a  faint  smile  upon  his  lips.  He  had  some  appearance, 
even,  of  manhood. 

"  Mr.  Rochester,"  he  said,  "  I  deny  your  charges.  I 
have  no  connection  with  the  fortune-telling  establish- 
ments to  which  you  have  alluded.  I  know  nothing  of  the 
blackmailing  transactions  you  speak  of.  You  have  been 
my  enemy,  my  hopeless  and  unforgiving  enemy.  I  am 
not  afraid  of  you.  If  this  is  your  great  blow,  strike. 
Let  me  be  arrested.  I  will  answer  everything.  After- 
wards, you  and  I  will  have  our  reckoning.  Lois,"  he 
added,  turning  to  her,  "  you  do  not  believe  —  say  that 
you  do  not  believe  these  things." 

"I  —  do  —  not  —  believe  — •  them  —  Bertrand,"  she 
answered  slowly. 

"  You  will  come  with  me  ?  " 

"I  —  will  —  come  —  with  —  you,"  she  echoed. 

"  By  God,  sir,  she  shan't ! "  cried  Vandermere. 
"  Take  your  hands  off  her,  sir,  or  you  shall  learn  how 
mountebanks  like  yourself  should  be  treated." 


288  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

Saton  struck  him  full  in  the  face,  so  that  losing  for 
a  moment  his  balance  upon  the  slippery  floor,  Vander- 
mere  nearly  fell.  In  a  moment  he  recovered  himself,  how- 
ever. There  was  a  struggle  which  did  not  last  half-a- 
dozen  seconds.  He  lifted  Saton  off  his  feet  and  shook 
him,  till  it  seemed  as  though  his  limbs  were  cracking. 
Then  he  threw  him  away. 

Rochester  stepped  forward  to  interfere. 

"  Enough  of  this,  Vandermere,"  he  said  sternly.  "  Re- 
member that  the  fellow's  career  is  over.  He  may  try  to 
bluff  it  out,  but  he  is  done  for.  I  have  proofs  enough 
to  send  him  to  prison  a  dozen  times  over." 

Saton  rose  slowly  to  his  feet.  Unconsciously  his  fingers 
straightened  his  tie.  He  knew  very  well  that  life  —  or 
rather  the  things  which  life  meant  for  him  —  was  over. 
He  had  only  one  desire  —  the  desire  of  the  born  poseur 
—  to  extricate  himself  from  his  present  position  with 
something  which  might,  at  any  rate,  seem  like  dignity. 

"  Do  I  understand,"  he  asked  Rochester,  "  that  my 
departure  from  this  house  is  forbidden  ?  " 

Rochester  shook  his  head. 

"  No !  "  he  answered.  "  For  what  you  are,  for  the  ig- 
noble creature  that  you  have  become,  I  accept  a  certain 
amount  of  responsibility.  For  that  reason,  I  bid  you  go. 
Go  where  you  will,  so  long  as  your  name  or  your  pres- 
ence never  trouble  us  again.  Let  this  be  the  last  time  that 
any  one  of  us  hears  the  name  of  Bertrand  Saton.  I  give 
you  that  chance.  Find  for  yourself  an  honest  place  in 
the  world,  if  you  can,  wherever  you  will,  so  that  it  be 
not  In  this  country.  Go !  " 


THE  CHARLATAN  UNMASKED   289 

Saton  turned  toward  the  door  with  a  little  shrug  of 
the  shoulders. 

"  You  need  have  no  fear,"  he  said.  "  The  country  into 
which  I  go  is  one  in  which  you  will  never  be  over-anxious 
to  travel." 

He  passed  out,  amidst  a  silence  which  seemed  a  little 
curious  when  one  considered  the  emotions  which  he  left 
behind.  Lois'  pale  face  seemed  all  aglow  with  a  sort  of 
desperate  thankfulness.  Already  she  was  in  Vandermere's 
arms.  And  then  the  silence  was  broken  by  a  woman's 
sobbing.  They  all  turned  towards  her.  It  was  Pauline 
who  had  suddenly  broken  down,  her  face  buried  in  her 
hands,  her  whole  frame  shaking  with  passion. 

Rochester  moved  towards  her,  but  she  thrust  him  aside. 

"  You  are  a  brute !  "  she  declared  — "  a  brute !  " 

She  staggered  across  the  room  towards  the  door  by 
which  Saton  had  departed.  Before  she  could  reach  it, 
however,  they  heard  the  crunching  of  wheels  as  his  car 
swept  by  the  front  on  its  way  down  the  avenue. 

Rochester  pushed  open  the  black  gate  which  led  from 
the  road  into  the  plantation  at  the  back  of  the  hill,  and 
they  passed  through  and  commenced  the  last  short  climb. 
No  word  passed  between  them.  The  silence  of  the  even- 
ing was  broken  only  by  the  faint  sobbing  of  the  wind  in 
the  treetops,  and  the  breaking  of  dried  twigs  under  their 
feet.  They  were  both  listening  intently  —  they  scarcely 
knew  for  what.  The  far-away  rumble  of  a  train,  the 
barking  of  a  dog,  the  scurrying  of  a  rabbit  across  the 
path  —  these  sounds  came  and  passed  —  nothing  else. 


29o  THE    MOVING   FINGER 

They  neared  the  edge  of  the  plantation.  There  was 
only  a  short  climb  now,  and  a  gray  stone  wall.  Rochester 
passed  his  arm  through  his  companion's.  Her  breath  was 
coming  in  little  sobs. 

"  We  shall  be  there  in  a  moment,  Pauline,"  he  said. 
"  It  is  only  a  fancy  of  mine.  Perhaps  he  is  not  here  after 
all,  but  at  any  rate  we  shall  know." 

She  said  nothing.  She  seemed  to  be  bracing  herself 
for  that  last  effort.  Now  they  could  see  the  bare  rocky 
outline  of  the  summit  of  the  hill.  A  few  steps  more,  and 
they  would  pass  through  the  gate.  And  then  the  sound 
came,  the  sound  which  somehow  they  had  dreaded.  Sharp 
and  crisp  through  the  twilight  air  came  the  report  of  a 
revolver.  They  even  fancied  that  they  heard  a  little  moan 
come  travelling  down  the  hillside. 

Rochester  stopped  short. 

"  We  are  too  late,"  he  said.  "  Pauline,  you  had  better 
stay  here.  I  will  go  on  and  find  him." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  am  coming,"  she  said.  "  It  is  my  fault !  —  it  is  my 
fault!" 

He  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Pauline,"  he  said,  "  it  may  not  be  a  fit  sight  for  you. 
Sit  here.  If  you  can  do  any  good,  I  will  call  to  you.'* 

She  brushed  him  aside  and  began  to  run.  With  her 
slight  start  she  outdistanced  him,  and  when  he  scrambled 
up  to  the  top,  she  was  already  on  her  knees,  kneeling 
down  over  the  crouching  form. 

"  He  is  not  dead,"  she  cried.  "  Quick !  Tell  me  where 
the  wound  is." 


THE  CHARLATAN  UNMASKED   291 

Rochester  stooped  down  on  the  other  side,  and  Saton 
opened  his  eyes  slowly. 

"  I  am  a  bungler,  as  usual !  "  he  said. 

Rochester  opened  his  coat  carefully. 

"  He  has  shot  himself  in  the  shoulder,"  he  said  to 
Pauline.  "  It  is  not  serious." 

Saton  pointed  to  the  rock. 

"  Lift  me  up  a  little,"  he  said.  "  I  want  to  sit  there, 
•with  my  back  to  it.  Carefully !  " 

Rochester  did  as  he  was  bid.  Then  he  took  his  hand- 
kerchief and  tried  to  staunch  the  blood. 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  came,"  Saton  faltered  — "  you 
especially,"  he  added  to  Rochester.  "  Haven't  you  had 
all  the  triumph  you  wanted?  Couldn't  you  have  left  me 
alone  to  spend  this  last  hour  my  own  way?  I  wanted  to 
learn  how  to  die  without  fear  or  any  regret.  Here  I  can 
do  it,  because  it  is  easier  here  to  realize  that  failure  such 
as  mine  is  death." 

"  We  came  to  try  and  save  you,"  said  Rochester 
quietly. 

"  To  save  you ! "  Pauline  sobbed.  "  Oh !  Bertrand,  I 
am  sorry  —  I  am  very,  very  sorry  !  " 

He  looked  at  her  in  slow  surprise. 

"  That  is  kind  of  you,"  he  said.  "  It  is  kind  of  you 
to  care.  You  know  now  what  sort  of  a  creature  I  am. 
You  know  that  he  was  right  —  this  man,  I  mean  —  when 
he  warned  you  against  me,  when  he  told  you  that  I  was 
something  rotten,  something  not  worth  your  notice. 
Give  me  the  revolver  again." 

Rochester  thrust  it  in  his  pocket,  shaking  his  head. 


292  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

"  My  young  friend,  I  think  not,"  he  said.  "  Listen. 
I  have  no  more  to  say  about  the  past.  I  am  prepared 
to  accept  my  share  of  the  responsibility  of  it.  You  are 
still  young.  There  is  still  time  for  you  to  weave  fresh 
dreams,  to  live  a  new  life.  Make  another  start.  No ! 
Don't  be  afraid  that  I'm  going  to  offer  you  my  help. 
There  was  a  curse  upon  that.  But  nevertheless,  make 
your  start.  It  isn't  I  who  wish  it.  It  is  —  Pauline." 

Saton  looked  at  her  wonderingly. 

"  She  doesn't  care,"  he  said.  "  She  knows  now  that  I 
am  really  a  charlatan.  And  I  needn't  have  been,"  he 
added,  with  a  sudden  fury.  "  It  was  only  that  cursed 
taste  for  luxury  which  seemed  somehow  or  other  to  creep 
into  my  blood,  which  made  me  so  dependent  upon  money. 
Naudheim  was  right !  Naudheim  was  right !  If  only  I 
had  stayed  with  him !  If  only  I  had  believed  in  him  !  " 

"  It  is  not  too  late,"  she  whispered,  stooping  low  over 
him.  "  Be  a  man,  Bertrand.  Take  up  your  work  where 
you  left  it,  and  have  done  with  the  other  things.  This 
slipping  away  over  the  edge,  slipping  into  Eternity,  is 
the  trick  of  cowards.  For  my  sake,  Bertrand ! " 

He  half  closed  his  eyes.  Rochester  was  busy  still  with 
his  shoulder,  and  the  pain  made  him  faint. 

"  Go  back  to  Naudheim,"  she  whispered.  "  Start  life 
from  the  very  bottom  rung,  if  he  will  have  it  so.  Don't 
be  afraid  of  failure.  Keep  your  hands  tight  upon  the 
ladder,  and  your  eyes  turned  toward  Heaven.  Oh!  You 
can  climb  if  you  will,  Bertrand.  You  can  climb,  I  am 
sure.  Don't  look  down.  Don't  pause.  Be  satisfied  with 
nothing  less  than  the  great  things.  For  my  sake,  Ber- 


THE  CHARLATAN  UNMASKED   293 

trand!  My  thoughts  will  follow  you.  My  heart  will  be 
with  you.  Promise !  " 

"  I  promise,"  he  murmured. 

His  head  sank  back.  He  was  half  unconscious. 

"  We  will  stay  with  him  for  a  moment,"  Rochester 
whispered.  "  As  soon  as  he  comes  to,  I  will  carry  him 
down  to  the  car." 

In  a  moment  or  two  he  opened  his  eyes.  His  lips 
moved,  but  he  was  half  delirious. 

"  Anything  but  failure !  "  he  muttered  to  himself,  with 
a  little  groan.  "  Death,  if  you  will  —  a  touch  of  the 
finger,  a  stroke  too  far  to  seaward.  Oh !  death  is  easy 
enough !  Death  is  easy,  and  failure  is  hard !  " 

Her  lips  touched  his  forehead. 

"  Don't  believe  it,  dear,"  she  whispered.  "  There  is  no 
real  failure  if  only  the  spirit  is  brave.  The  dead  things 
are  there  to  help  you  climb.  They  are  rungs  in  the  lad- 
der, boulders  for  your  feet." 

He  leaned  a  little  forward.  It  seemed  as  though  he 
recognised  something  familiar  amongst  the  treetops,  or 
down  in  the  mist-clad  valleys. 

"  Naudheim ! "  he  cried  hoarsely.  "  I  shall  go  to 
Naudheim ! " 


EPILOGUE 

THE    MAN 

ABOUT  half-way  up,  where  the  sleighs  stopped, 
Lady   Mary   gave   in.  Pauline    and   Rochester 
went   forward   on   foot,   and  with   a   guide   in 
front.  Below  them  was  a  wonderful  unseen  world,  un- 
seen except  when  the  snow  for  a  moment  ceased  to  fall, 
and  they  caught  vague,  awe-inspiring  glimpses  of  ra- 
vines and  precipices,  tree-clad  gorges,  reaching  down  a 
dizzy   height  to  the  valley   below.  Above   them  was  a 
plateau,  black  with  pine  trees.  Higher  still,  the  invisible 
mountain  tops. 

"  It  is  only  a  few  hundred  yards  further,"  Rochester 
said,  holding  his  companion  by  the  arm.  "  What  a  coun- 
try, though !  I  wonder  if  it  ever  stops  snowing." 
"  It  is  wonderful !  "  she  murmured.  "  Wonderful !  " 
And  then,  as  though  in  some  strange  relation  to  his 
words,  the  storm  of  whirling  snow-flakes  suddenly  ceased. 
The  thin  veil  passed  away  from  overhead  like  gossamer. 
They  saw  a  clear  sky.  They  saw,  even,  the  gleam  of  re- 
flected sunshine,  and  as  the  mist  lifted,  the  country  above 
and  beyond  unrolled  itself  in  one  grand  and  splendid 
transformation  scene:  woods  above  woods;  snow-clad 
peaks,  all  glittering  with  their  burden  of  icicles  and 
snow ;  and  above,  a  white  chaos,  where  the  mountain-peak 
struck  the  clouds. 


EPILOGUE  — THE    MAN  295 

They  paused  for  a  moment,  breathless. 

"  It  is  like  Naudheim  himself,"  she  declared.  "  This  is 
the  land  he  spoke  of.  This  is  the  place  to  which  he 
climbed.  It  is  wonderful ! " 

"  Come,"  Rochester  said.  "  We  must  be  up  before 
the  darkness." 

Slowly  they  made  their  way  along  the  mountain  road, 
which  their  guide  in  front  was  doing  all  he  could  to  make 
smooth  for  them.  And  then  at  the  corner  they  found  a 
log  hut,  to  which  their  guide  pointed  triumphantly. 

"  It  is  there ! "  he  exclaimed  — "  there  where  they  live, 
the  two  madmen.  Beyond,  you  see,  is  the  village  of  the 
woodhewers." 

Rochester  nodded.  They  struggled  a  few  steps  up- 
wards, and  then  paused  to  look  with  wonder  at  the  scene 
below.  The  one  log  cabin  before  which  they  were  now 
standing,  had  been  built  alone.  Barely  a  hundred  yards 
away,  across  the  ravine,  were  twenty  or  thirty  similar 
ones,  from  the  roofs  of  which  the  smoke  went  curling 
upwards.  It  seemed  for  a  moment  as  though  they  had 
climbed  above  the  world  of  noises  —  climbed  into  the 
land  of  eternal  silence.  Before  they  had  had  time,  how- 
ever, to  frame  the  thought,  they  heard  the  crashing  of 
timber  across  the  ravine,  and  a  great  tree  fell  inwards. 
A  sound  like  distant  thunder  rose  and  swelled  at  every 
moment. 

"  It  is  the  machinery,"  their  guide  told  them.  "  The 
trees  fall  and  are  stripped  of  their  boughs.  Then  they 
go  down  the  ravine  there,  and  along  the  slide  all  the  way 
to  the  river.  See  them  all  the  way,  like  a  great  worm. 


296  THE    MOVING    FINGER 

Day  and  night,  month  by  month  —  there  is  never  a  min- 
ute when  a  tree  does  not  fall." 

Again  they  heard  the  crashing,  and  another  tree  fell. 
They  heard  the  rumble  of  the  slide  in  the  forest.  The 
peculiar  scent  of  fresh  sap  seemed  like  a  perfume  in  the 
air.  Then  suddenly  the  snow  began  to  fall  again.  They 
could  not  see  across  the  ravine. 

The  guide  knocked  at  the  door  and  opened  it.  Roches- 
ter and  Pauline  passed  in.  ... 

There  was  something  almost  familiar  about  the  little 
scene.  It  was,  in  many  respects,  so  entirely  as  she  had 
always  imagined  it.  Naudheim,  coatless,  collarless,  with 
open  waistcoat,  twisted  braces,  and  unkempt  hair,  was 
striding  up  and  down  the  room,  banging  his  hands 
against  his  side,  dictating  to  the  younger  man  who  sat 
before  the  rude  pine  table. 

"  So  we  arrive,"  they  heard  his  harsh,  eager  tones, 
"  so  we  arrive  at  the  evolution  of  that  consciousness 
which  may  justly  be  termed  eternal  —  the  consciousness 
which  has  become  subject  to  these  primary  and  irresistible 
laws,  the  understanding  of  which  has  baffled  for  so  many 
ages  the  students  of  every  country.  So  we  come " 

Naudheim  broke  off  in  the  middle  of  his  sentence.  A 
rush  of  cold  air  had  swept  into  the  room.  He  thrust 
forward  an  angry,  inquiring  countenance  toward  the 
visitors.  The  young  man  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Pauline !  "  he  exclaimed. 

He  recognised  Rochester,  and  stepped  back  with  a  mo- 
mentary touch  of  his  old  passionate  repugnance,  not  un- 
mixed with  fear.  He  recovered  himself,  however,  almost 


EPILOGUE  — THE    MAN  297 

immediately.  Rochester  gazed  at  him  in  amazement.  It 
would  have  been  hard,  indeed,  to  have  recognised  the 
Bertrand  Saton  of  the  old  days,  in  the  robust  and 
bearded  man  who  stood  there  now  with  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  Pauline.  His  cheeks  were  weather-beaten  but  brown 
with  health.  He  wore  a  short,  unkempt  beard,  a  flannel 
shirt  with  collar  but  no  tie,  tweed  clothes,  which  might 
indeed  have  come,  at  one  time  or  another,  from  Saville 
Row,  but  were  now  spent  with  age,  and  worn  out  of  all 
shape. 

Pauline's  heart  leaped  with  joy.  Her  eyes  were  wet. 
It  had  been  worth  while,  then.  He  had  found  salvation. 

"  We  hadn't  the  least  right  to  come,  of  course,"  she 
began,  recognising  that  speech  alone  could  dissolve  that 
strange  silence  and  discomposure  which  seemed  to  have 
fallen  upon  all  of  them.  "  Mr.  Rochester  and  Lady  Mary 
and  I  are  going  to  St.  Moritz,  and  I  persuaded  them  to 
stay  over  here  and  see  whether  we  couldn't  rout  you  out. 
What  a  wonderful  place ! "  she  exclaimed. 

"  It  is  a  wonderful  place,  madam ! "  Naudheim  ex- 
claimed glowering  at  them  with  darkening  face.  "  It  is 
wonderful  because  we  are  many  thousands  of  feet  up 
from  that  rotten,  stinking  little  life,  that  cauldron  of 
souls,  into  which  my  young  friend  here  had  very  nearly 
pitched  his  own  little  offering." 

"  It  was  we  who  sent  him  to  you,"  Pauline  said  gently. 

"  So  long  as  you  have  not  come  to  fetch  him  away," 
Naudheim  muttered. 

Pauline  shook  her  head. 

"  We  have  come,"  she  said,  "  because  we  care  for  him, 


sg8  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

because  we  were  anxious  to  know  whether  he  had  come 
to  his  own.  We  will  go  away  the  moment  you  send  us." 

"  You  will  have  some  tea,"  Naudheim  growled,  a  little 
more  graciously.  "  Saton,  man,  be  hospitable.  It  is 
goat's  milk,  and  none  too  sweet  at  that,  and  I  won't  an- 
swer for  the  butter." 

Saton  spoke  little.  Pauline  was  content  to  watch  him. 
They  drank  tea  out  of  thick  china  cups,  but  over  their 
conversation  there  was  always  a  certain  reserve.  Naud- 
heim listened  and  watched,  like  a  mother  jealous  of 
strangers  who  might  rob  her  of  her  young.  After  tea, 
however,  he  disappeared  from  the  room  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  Rochester  walked  toward  the  window. 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  come,  Pauline,"  Saton  said. 
"  I  shall  work  all  the  better  for  this  little  glimpse  of 
you." 

"  Will  the  work,"  she  asked  softly,  "  never  be  done?  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Why  should  it  ?  One  passes  from  field  to  field,  and 
our  lives  are  not  long  enough,  nor  our  brains  great 
enough,  to  reach  the  place  where  we  may  call  halt." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  she  asked,  "  that  you  will  live  here  all 
your  days  ?  " 

"Why  not?"  he  answered.  "I  have  tried  other 
things,  and  you  know  what  they  made  of  me.  If  I  live 
here  till  I  am  as  old  as  Naudheim,  I  shall  only  be  suffer- 
ing a  just  penance." 

"  But  you  are  young,"  she  murmured.  "  There  are 
things  in  the  world  worth  having.  There  is  a  life  there 
worth  living.  Solitude  such  as  this  is  the  greatest  pan- 


EPILOGUE  — THE    MAN  299 

acea  the  world  could  offer  for  all  you  have  been  through. 
But  it  is  not  meant  to  last.  We  want  you  back  again, 
Bertrand." 

His  eyes  were  suddenly  on  fire.  He  shrank  a  little 
away  from  her. 

"  Don't !  "  he  begged.  "  Don't,  Pauline.  I  am  living 
my  punishment  here,  and  I  have  borne  it  without  once 
looking  back.  Don't  make  it  harder." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  make  it  harder,"  she  declared,  "  and 
yet  I  meant  what  I  said.  It  is  not  right  that  you  should 
spend  all  your  days  here.  It  is  not  right  for  your  own 
sake,  it  is  not  right " 

She  held  out  her  hands  to  him  suddenly. 

"  It  is  not  right  for  mine,"  she  whispered. 

Rochester  stepped  outside.  Again  the  snow  had  ceased. 
In  the  forest  he  could  hear  the  whirl  of  machinery  and 
the  crashing  of  the  falling  timber.  He  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment with  clenched  hands,  with  unseeing  eyes,  with  ears 
in  which  was  ringing  still  the  memory  of  that  low,  pas- 
sionate cry.  And  then  the  fit  passed.  He  looked  down 
to  the  little  half-way  house  where  he  had  left  his  wife. 
He  fancied  he  could  see  someone  waving  a  white  hand- 
kerchief from  the  platform  of  pine  logs.  It  was  all  so 
right,  after  all,  so  right  and  natural.  He  began  to  de- 
scend alone. 

Saton  brought  her  down  about  an  hour  later.  Their 
faces  told  all  that  there  was  to  say. 

"  Bertrand  is  going  to  stay  here  for  another  year," 
Pauline  said,  answering  Lady  Mary's  unspoken  ques- 
tion. "  The  first  part  of  his  work  with  Naudheim  will  be 


300  THE   MOVING   FINGER 

finished  then,  and  we  think  he  will  have  earned  a  vaca- 
tion." 

Saton  held  out  his  hands  to  Rochester. 

"  Mr.  Rochester,"  he  said,  "  I  have  never  asked  you 
to  forgive  me  for  all  the  hard  things  I  have  said  and 
thought  of  you,  for  my  ingratitude,  and  —  for  other 
things." 

"  Don't  speak  of  them,"  Rochester  interrupted. 

"  I  won't,"  Saton  continued  quickly.  "  I  can't.  That 
chapter  of  my  life  is  buried.  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of 
it  even  now.  I  cannot  bear  to  come  in  contact  with  any- 
thing which  reminds  me  of  it." 

Rochester  took  his  hand  and  grasped  it  heartily. 

"  Don't  be  morbid  about  it,"  he  said.  "  Every  man 
should  have  at  least  two  chances  in  life.  You  had  your 
first,  and  it  was  a  rank  failure.  That  was  because  you  had 
unnatural  help,  and  bad  advice.  The  second  time,  I  am 
glad  to  see  that  you  have  succeeded.  You  have  done  this 
on  your  own.  You  have  proved  that  the  real  man  is  the 
present  man." 

Saton  drew  Pauline  towards  him  with  a  gesture  which 
was  almost  reverent. 

"  I  think  that  Pauline  knows,"  he  said.  "  I  hope  so." 

Early  in  the  morning  their  sleigh  rattled  off.  Saton 
stood  outside  the  cottage,  waving  his  hand.  Naudheim 
was  by  his  side,  his  arm  resting  gently  upon  the  young 
man's  shoulder.  A  fine  snow  was  falling  around  them. 
The  air  was  clean  and  pure  —  the  air  of  Heaven.  There 
was  no  sound  to  break  the  deep  stillness  but  the  tinkle  of 


EPILOGUE  — THE    MAN  301 

the  sleigh-bells,  and  behind,  the  rhythmic  humming  of 
the  machinery,  and  the  crashing  of  the  falling  trees. 

"  Naudheim  is  a  great  master,"  Rochester  said. 

Pauline  smiled  through  her  tears. 

"  Bertrand  isn't  such  a  very  bad  pupil." 


THE   END 


E.  Phillips   Oppenheim's  Novels 


He  possesses  the  magic  art'  of  narration. 

— New  York  Herald. 

Mr.  Oppenheim  never  fails  to  entertain  us. 

— Boston  Transcript 

The  author  has  acquired  an  admirable  technique  of 
the  sort  demanded  by  the  novel  of  intrigue  and 
mystery. — The  Dial,  Chicago. 

Mr.  Oppenheim  is  a  past  master  of  the  art  of  con- 
structing ingenious  plots  and  weaving  them  around 
attractive  characters. — London  Morning  Post. 

By  all  odds  the  most  successful  among  the  writers  of 
that  class  of  fiction  which,  for  want  of  a  better  term, 
maybe  called  "mystery  stories."— Ainslee's  Magazine. 

E.  Phillips  Oppenheim  has  a  very  admirable  gift  of 
telling  good  stories,  thoroughly  matured,  brilliantly 
constructed,  and  convincingly  told. — London  Times. 

Readers  of  Mr.  Oppenheim's  novels  may  always 
count  on  a  'story  of  absorbing  interest,  turning  on  a 
complicated  plot,  worked  out  with  dexterous  crafts- 
manship.—  Literary  Digest,  New  York. 

We  do  not  stop  to  inquire  into  the  measure  of  his 
art,  any  more  than  we  inquire  into  that  of  Alexandre 
Dumas,  we  only  realize  that  here  is  a  benefactor  of 
tired  men  and  women  seeking  relaxation. 

—  The  Independent,  New  York. 


E.  Phillips  Oppenheim's  Novels 


The  Moving  Finger. 

A  mystifying  story  dealing  with  unexpected  results  of  a  wealthy 
M.  P.'s  experiment  with  a  poor  young  man. 

Berenice. 

Oppenheim  in  a  new  vein — the  story  of  the  love  of  a  novelist 
of  high  ideals  for  an  actress. 

The  Lost  Ambassador. 

A  straightforward  mystery  tale  of  Paris  and  London,  in  which  a 
rascally  maltre  d' hotel  plays  an  important  part 

A  Daughter  of  the  Marionis. 

A  melodramatic  romance  of  Palermo  and  England,  dealing  with 
a  rejected  Italian  lover's  attempted  revenge. 

Mystery  of  Mr.  Bernard  Brown. 

A  murder-mystery  story  rich  in  sensational  incidents. 

The  Illustrious  Prince. 

A  narrative  of  mystery  and  Japanese  political  intrigue. 

Jeanne  of  the  Marshes. 

Strange  doings  at  an  English  house  party  are  here  set  forth. 

The  Governors. 

A  romance  of  the  intrigues  of  American  finance. 

The  Missioner. 

Strongly  depicts  the  love  of  an  earnest  missioner  and  a  worldly 
heroine. 


E.  Phillips   Oppenheim's  Novels 


The  Long  Arm  of  Mannister. 

A  distinctly  different  story  that  deals  with  a  wronged  man's 
ingenious  revenge. 

As  a  Man  Lives. 

Discloses  the  mystery  surrounding  the  fair  occupant  of  a  yellow 
house. 

The  Avenger. 

Unravels  an  intricate  tangle  of  political  intrigue  and  private 
revenge. 

The  Great  Secret. 

Unfolds  a  stupendous  international  conspiracy. 

A  Lost  Leader. 

A  realistic  romance  woven  around  a  striking  personality. 

A  Maker  of  History. 

"Explains"  the  Russian  Baltic  fleet's  attack  on  the  North  Sea 
fishing  fleet 

Enoch  Strone :  A  Master  of  Men. 

The  story  of  a  self-made  man  who  made  a  foolish  early  marriage. 

The  Malefactor. 

An  amazing  story  of  a  man  who  suffered  imprisonment  for  a 
crime  he  did  not  commit. 

The  Traitors. 

A  capital  romance  of  love,  adventure  and  Russian  intrigue. 


E.   Phillips  Oppenheim's  Novels 

A  Prince  of  Sinners. 

An  engrossing  story  of  English  social  and  political  life. 

A  Millionaire  of  Yesterday. 

A  gripping  story  of  a  wealthy  West  African  miner. 

The  Man  and  His  Kingdom. 

A  dramatic  tale  of  adventure  in  South  America. 

Anna  the  Adventuress. 

A  suprising  tale  of  a  bold  deception. 

Mysterious  Mr.  Sabin. 

An  ingenious  story  of  a  world-startling  international  intrigue. 

The  Yellow  Crayon. 

Containing  the  exciting  experiences  of  Mr.  Sabin  with  a  power- 
ful secret  society. 

The  Betrayal. 

A  thrilling  story  of  treachery  in  high  diplomatic  circles. 

A  Sleeping  Memory. 

A  remarkable  story  of  an  unhappy  girl  who  was  deprived  of 
her  memory. 

The  Master  Mummer. 

The  strange  romance  of  beautiful  Isobel  de  Sorrens. 


Little,  Brown,  &  Co.,  Publishers,  Boston 


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